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Copyright,  1877, 

BY 

DODD,  MEAD  &   COMPANY 


THIS  BOOK 

IS  REVERENTLY  DEDICATED  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 

MY  HONORED  FATHER. 


2036311 


PREFACE. 


He  best  deserves  a  knightly  crest 
Who  slays  the  evils  that  infest 
His  soul  within.     If  victor  here. 
He  soon  will  find  a  wider  sphere. 
The  world  is  cold  to  him  who  pleads; 
The  world  bows  low  to  knightly  deeds. 

Cjrn'wall-on-the-Hulson,  N.  Y. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER.  FAGB 

I.  Bad  Training  for  a  Knight i 

II.  Both  Apologize lo 

III.  Chained  TO  AN  Iceberg i8 

IV,  Immature 28 

V.  Passion's  Clamor 38 

VI.  "  Gloomy  Grandeur  " 50 

VII.  Birds  of  Prey 57 

VIII.  Their  Victim 68 

IX.  Pat  and  the  Press 76 

X.  Returning  Consciousness 83 

XI.  Haldane  IS  Arrested 91 

XII.  A  Memorable  Meeting 10 1 

XIII.  Our  Knight  in  Jail 109 

XIV.  Mr.  Arnot's  System  Works  Badly 115 

XV.  Haldane's  Resolve 123 

XVI.  The  Impulses  of  Wounded  Pride 130 

XVII.  At  Odds  with  the  World 137 

XVIII.  The  World's  Verdict — Our  Knight  a  Crim- 
inal   145 

XIX.  The  World's  Best  Offer — A  Prison 151 

XX.  Maiden  and  Wood-Sawyer 158 

XXI.  Magnanimous  Mr.  Shrumpf 168 

XXII.  A  Man  Who  Hated  Himself 174 

XXIII.  Mr.  Growther  Becomes  Gigantic 184 

XXIV.  How  Public  Opinion  IS  Often  Made 193 

XXV.  A  Paper  Poniard 201 

XXVI.  A  Sorry  Knight 207 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER.  PAGB 

XXVII.  God  SexNt  His  Angel 213 

XXVIII.  Facing  THE  Consequences 219 

XXIX.  How  Evil  Isolates 227 

XXX.  Ideal  Knighthood 234 

XXXI.  The  Low  Starting-Point 243 

XXXII.  A  Sacred  Refrigerator 252 

XXXIII.  A  Doubtful  Battle  in  Prospect 260 

XXXIV.  A  Foot-hold 269 

XXXV.  That  Sermon  was  a  Bomb-shell 274 

XXXVI.  Mr.  Growther  Feeds  an  Ancient  Grudge  .  281 

XXXVII.  Hoping  for  a  Miracle 287 

XXXVIII.  The  Miracle  Takes  Place 294 

XXXIX.  Votaries  of  the  World 301 

XL.  Human  Nature 312 

XLL  Mrs.  Arnot's  Creed 322 

XLII.  The  Lever  that  Moves  the  World    .    .    .  332 

XLIII.  Mr.  Growther  "  Stumped  " 340 

XLIV.  Growth 35^ 

XLV.  Laura  Romeyn 3^^ 

XLVI.  Misjudged 369 

XLVII.  Laura  Chooses  her  Knight 377 

XLVIII.  Mrs.  Arnot's  Knight 35-^9 

XLIX.  a  Knightly  Deed 400 

L.  "  O  Dreaded  Death  !  " •    •    .    .  411 

LI.  "  O  Priceless  Life  !  " 420 

LII.  A  Man  versus  a  Connoisseur 435 

LIIL  Exit  of  Laura's  First  Knight 444 

LIV.  Another  Knight  Appears 45  2 


A  Knight 
of  the  Nineteenth  Century. 

CHAPTER  I. 

BAD  TRAINING  FOR  A  KNIGHT. 

Egbert  Haldane  had  an  enemy  who  loved  him  very 
dearly,  and  he  sincerely  returned  her  affection,  as  he 
was  in  duty  bound,  since  she  was  his  mother.  If,  inspired 
by  hate  and  malice,  Mrs.  Haldane  had  brooded  over  but 
one  question  at  the  cradle  of  her  child,  How  can^I  most 
surely  destroy  this  boy  ?  she  could  scarcely  have  set 
about  the  task  more  skillfully  and  successfully. 

But  so  far  from  having  any  such  malign  and  unnatural 
intention,  Mrs.  Haldane  idolized  her  son.  To  make  the 
paradox  more  striking,  she  was  actually  seeking  to  give 
him  a  Christian  training  and  character.  As  he  leaned 
against  her  knee  Bible  tales  w-ere  told  him,  not  merely 
for  the  sake  of  the  marvelous  interest  which  they  ever 
have  for  children,  but  in  the  hope,  also,  that  the  moral 
they  carry  with  them  might  remain  as  germinating  seed. 
At  an  early  age  the  mother  had  commenced  taking  him 
to  church,  and  often  gave  him  an  admonitory  nudge  as 
his  restless  eyes  wandered  from  the  venerable  face  in  the 
pulpit.  In  brief,  the  apparent  influences  of  his  early  life 
were  similar  to  those  existing  in  multitudes  of  Christian 
homes.  On  general  principles,  it  might  be  hoped  that 
the  boy's  future  would  be  all  that  his  friends  could  de- 


2       KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

sire  ;  nor  did  he  himself  in  early  youth  promise  so  badly 
to  superficial  observers  ;  and  the  son  of  the  wealthy  Mrs. 
Haldane  was,  on  the  part  of  the  world,  more  the  object 
of  envy  than  of  censure.  But  a  close  observer,  who 
judged  of  characteristic  tendencies  and  their  results  by 
the  light  of  experience,  might  justly  fear  that  the  mother 
had  unwittingly  done  her  child  irreparable  wrong. 

She  had  made  him  a  tyrant  and  a  relentless  taskmaster 
even  in  his  infancy.  As  his  baby-will  developed  he 
found  it  supreme.  His  nurse  was  obliged  to  be  a  slave 
who  must  patiently  humor  every  whim.  He  was  petted 
and  coaxed  out  of  his  frequent  fits  of  passion,  and  be- 
guiled from  his  obstinate  and  sulky  moods  by  bribes. 
He  was  the  eldest  child  and  only  son,  and  his  httle  sis- 
ters were  taught  to  yield  to  him,  right  or  wrong,  he  lord- 
ing it  over  them  with  the  capricious  lawlessness  of  an 
Eastern  despot.  Chivalric  deference  to  woman,  and  a 
disposition  to  protect  and  honor  her,  is  a  necessary  ele- 
ment of  a  manly  character  in  our  Western  civilization  ; 
but  young  Haldane  was  as  truly  an  Oriental  as  if  he  had 
been  permitted  to  bluster  around  a  Turkish  harem  ;  and 
those  whom  he  should  have  learned  to  wait  upon  with 
delicacy  and  tact  became  subservient  to  his  varying 
moods,  developing  that  essential  brutality  which  mars 
the  nature  of  every  man  who  looks  upon  woman  as  an  in- 
ferior and  a  servant.  He  loved  his  mother,  but  he  did 
not  reverence  and  honor  her.  The  thought  ever  upper- 
most in  his  mind  was,  "  What  ought  she  to  do  for  me  ?  " 
not,  "What  ought  I  to  do  for  her?"  and  any  effort  to 
curb  or  guide  on  her  part  was  met  and  thwarted  by  pas- 
sionate or  obstinate  opposition  from  him.  He  loved  his 
sisters  after  a  fashion,  because  they  were  his  sisters  ;  but 
so  far  from  learning  to  think  of  them  as  those  whom  it 
would  be  his  natural  task  to  cherish  and  protect,  they 
were,  in  his  estimation,  "nothing  but  girls,"  and  of  no 
account  whatever  where  his  interests  were  concerned. 


BAD   TRAINING  FOR   A   KNIGHT.  3 

In  the  most  receptive  period  of  life  the  poison  of  selfish- 
ness and  self-love  was  steadily  instilled  into  his  nature. 
Before  he  had  left  the  nursery  he  had  formed  the  habit 
of  disregarding  the  wills  and  wishes  of  others,  even  when 
his  childish  conscience  told  him  that  he  was  decidedly  in 
the  wrong.  When  he  snatched  his  sisters'  playthings 
they  cried  in  vain,  and  found  no  redress.  The  mother 
made  peace  by  smoothing  over  matters,  and  promising 
the  little  girls  something  else. 

Of  course,  the  boy  sought  to  carry  into  his  school  life 
the  same  tendencies  and  habits  which  he  had  learned  at 
home,  and  he  ever  found  a  faithful  ally  in  his  blind,  fond 
mother.  She  took  his  side  against  his  teachers  ;  she 
could  not  beheve  in  his  oppressions  of  his  younger  play- 
mates ;  she  was  absurdly  indignant  and  resentful  when 
some  sturdy  boy  stood  up  for  his  own  rights,  or  cham- 
pioned another's,  and  sent  the  incipient  bully  back  to 
her,  crying,  and  with  a  bloody  nose.  When  the  pam- 
pered youth  was  a  little  indisposed,  or  imagined  himself 
so,  he  was  coddled  at  home,  and  had  bonbons  and  fairy 
tales  in  the  place  of  lessons. 

Judicious  friends  shook  their  heads  ominously,  and 
some  even  ventured  to  counsel  the  mother  to  a  wiser 
course  ;  but  she  ever  resented  such  advice.  The  son 
was  the  image  of  his  lost  father,  and  her  one  impulse  was 
to  lavish  upon  him  every  thing  that  his  heart  craved. 

As  if  all  this  were  not  enough,  she  placed  in  the  boy's 
way  another  snare,  which  seldom  fails  of  proving  fatal. 
He  had  only  to  ask  for  money  to  obtain  it,  no  knowledge 
of  its  value  being  imparted  to  him.  Even  when  he  took 
it  from  his  mother's  drawer  without  asking,  her  chidings 
were  feeble  and  irresolute.  He  would  silence  and  half 
satisfy  her  by  saying  : 

"  You  can  take  any  thing  of  mine  that  you  want.  It's 
all  in  the  family  ;  what  difference  does  it  make?  " 

Thus  every   avenue  of  temptation  in  the  city  which 


4       KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

could  be  entered  by  money  was  open  to  him,  and  he 
was  not  slow  in  choosing  those  naturally  attractive  to  a 
boy. 

But  while  his  mother  was  blind  to  the  evil  traits  and 
tendencies  which  she  was  fostering  with  such  ominous 
success,  there  were  certain  overt  acts  naturally  growing 
out  of  her  indulgences  which  would  shock  her  inex- 
pressibly, and  evoke  even  from  her  the  strongest  expres- 
sions of  indignation  and  rebuke.  She  was  pre-eminently 
respectable,  and  fond  of  respect.  She  was  a  member 
"  in  good  and  regular  standing  "  not  only  of  her  church, 
but  also  of  the  best  society  in  the  small  inland  city  where 
she  resided,  and  few  greater  misfortunes  in  her  estima- 
tion could  occur  than  to  lose  this  status.  She  never  hesi- 
tated to  humor  any  of  her  son's  whims  and  wishes  which 
did  not  threaten  their  respectability,  but  the  quick-witted 
boy  was  not  long  in  discovering  that  she  would  not 
tolerate  any  of  those  vices  and  associations  which  society 
condemns. 

There  could  scarcely  have  been  any  other  result  save 
that  which  followed.  She  had  never  taught  him  self-re- 
straint ;  his  own  inclinations  furnished  the  laws  of  his 
action,  and  the  wish  to  curb  his  desires  because  they 
were  wrong  scarcely  ever  crossed  his  mind.  To  avoid 
trouble  with  his  mother,  therefore,  he  began  slyly  and 
secretly  to  taste  the  forbidden  fruits  which  her  lavish 
supplies  of  money  always  kept  within  his  reach.  In  this 
manner  that  most  hopeless  and  vitiating  of  elements,  de- 
ceitfulness,  entered  into  his  character.  He  denied  to  his 
mother,  and  sought  to  conceal  from  her,  the  truth  that 
while  still  in  his  teens  he  was  learning  the  gambler's  in- 
fatuation and  forming  the  inebriate's  appetite.  He  tried 
to  prevent  her  from  knowing  that  many  of  his  most  inti- 
mate associates  were  such  as  he  would  not  introduce  to 
her  or  to  his  sisters. 

He  had  received,  however,  a  few  counter-balancingf 


BAD   TRAINING  FOB  A   KNIGHT.  5 

advantages  in  his  early  life.  With  all  her  weaknesses, 
his  mother  was  a  lady,  and  order,  refinement,  and  ele- 
gance characterized  his  home.  Though  not  a  gentleman 
at  heart,  on  approaching  manhood  he  habitually  main- 
tained the  outward  bearing  that  society  demands.  The 
report  that  he  was  a  little  fast  was  more  than  neutrahzed 
by  the  fact  of  his  wealth.  Indeed,  society  concluded 
that  it  had  much  more  occasion  to  smile  than  to  frown 
upon  him,  and  his  increasing  fondness  for  society  and  its 
approval  in  some  degree  curbed  his  tendencies  to  dissi- 
pation. 

It  might  also  prove  to  his  advantage  that  so  much 
Christian  and  ethical  truth  had  been  lodged  in  his  mem- 
ory during  early  years.  His  mother  had  really  taken 
pains  to  acquaint  him  with  the  Divine  Man  who  "  pleased 
not  Himself,"  even  while  she  was  practically  teaching  him 
to  reverse  this  trait  in  his  own  character.  Thus,  while 
the  youth's  heart  was  sadly  erratic,  his  head  was  toler- 
ably orthodox,  and  he  knew  theoretically  the  chief  princi- 
ples of  right  action.  Though  his  conscience  had  never 
been  truly  awakened,  it  often  told  him  that  his  action 
was  unmanly,  to  say  the  least  ;  and  that  was  as  far  as 
any  self-censure  could  reach  at  this  time.  But  it  might 
prove  a  fortunate  thing  that  although  thorns  and  thistles 
had  been  planted  chiefly,  some  good  seed  had  been  scat- 
tered also,  and  that  he  had  received  some  idea  of  a  life 
the  reverse  of  that  which  he  was  leading. 

But  thus  far  it  might  be  said  with  almost  literal  truth, 
that  young  Haldane's  acquaintance  with  Christian  ethics 
had  had  no  more  practical  effect  upon  his  habitual  action 
and  thought  than  his  knowledge  of  algebra.  When  his 
mother  permitted  him  to  snatch  his  sisters'  playthings  and 
keep  them,  when  she  took  him  from  the  school  where  he 
had  received  well-merited  punishment,  when  she  en- 
slaved herself  and  her  household  to  him  instead  of  teach- 
ing considerate  and  loyal  devotion  to  her,  she  nullified 


6       KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

all  the  Christian  instruction  that  she  or  any  one  else  had 
given. 

The  boy  had  one  very  marked  trait,  which  might 
promise  well  for  the  future,  or  otherwise,  according  to 
circumstances,  and  that  was  a  certain  willful  persistence, 
which  often  degenerated  into  downright  obstinacy.  Fre- 
quently, when  his  mother  thought  that  she  had  coaxed 
or  wheedled  him  into  giving  up  something  of  which  she 
did  not  approve,  he  would  quietly  approach  his  object  in 
some  other  way,  and  gain  his  point,  or  sulk  till  he  did. 
When  he  set  his  heart  upon  any  thing  he  was  not  as  "  un- 
stable as  water."  While  but  an  indifferent  and  super- 
ficial student,  who  had  habitually  escaped  lessons  and 
skipped  difficulties,  he  occasionally  became  nettled  by  a 
perplexing  problem  or  task,  and  would  work  at  it  with  a 
sort  of  vindictive,  unrelenting  earnestness,  as  if  he  were 
subduing  an  enemy.  Having  put  his  foot  on  the  obstacle, 
and  mastered  the  difficulty  that  piqued  him,  he  would 
cast  the  book  aside,  indifferent  to  the  study  or  science  of 
which  it  formed  but  a  small  fraction. 

After  all,  perhaps  the  best  that  could  be  said  of  him 
was  that  he  possessed  fair  abilities,  and  was  still  subject 
to  the  good  and  generous  impulses  of  youth.  His  traits 
and  tendencies  were,  in  the  main,  all  wrong  ;  but  he  had 
not  as  yet  become  confirmed  and  hardened  in  them. 
Contact  with  the  world,  which  sooner  or  later  tells  a  man 
the  truth  about  himself,  however  unwelcome,  might  dissi- 
pate the  illusion,  gained  from  his  mother's  idolatry,  that 
in  some  indefinite  way  he  was  remarkable  in  himself,  and 
that  he  was  destined  to  great  things  from  a  vague  and 
innate  superiority,  which  it  had  never  occurred  to  him  to 
analyze. 

But  as  the  young  man  approached  his  majority  hi.s 
growing  habits  of  dissipation  became  so  pronounced  that 
even  his  willingly  bhnd  mother  was  compelled  to  recog- 
nize them.     Rumor  of  his  fast  and  foolish  behavior  took 


BAD    TRAINING  FOR   A   KNIGHT.  7 

such  definite  shape  as  to  penetrate  the  widow's  aristo- 
cratic retirement,  and  to  pass  the  barriers  created  by  the 
reserve  which  she  ever  maintained  in  regard  to  personal 
and  family  matters.  More  than  once  her  son  came  home 
in  a  condition  so  nearly  resembling  intoxication  that  she 
was  compelled  to  recognize  the  cause,  and  she  was  greatly 
shocked  and  alarmed.  Again  and  again  she  said  to 
herself : 

"I  cannot  understand  how  a  boy  brought  up  in  the 
careful  Christian  manner  that  he  has  been  can  show  such 
unnatural  depravity.  It  is  a  dark,  mysterious  provi- 
dence, to  which  I  feel  I  cannot  submit." 

Though  young  Haldane  was  aware  of  his  mother's  in- 
tolerance of  disreputable  vices  and  follies,  he  was  not 
prepared  for  her  strong  and  even  bitter  condemnation  of 
his  action.  Having  never  been  taught  to  endure  from 
her  nor  from  any  one  the  language  of  rebuke,  he  retorted 
as  a  son  never  should  do  in  any  circumstances,  and 
stormy  scenes  followed. 

Thus  the  mother  was  at  last  rudely  awakened  to  the 
fact  that  her  son  w^as  not  a  model  youth,  and  that  some- 
thing must  be  done  speedily,  or  else  he  might  go  to  de- 
struction, and  in  the  meantime  disgrace  both  himself  and 
her— an  event  almost  equally  to  be  dreaded. 

In  her  distress  and  perplexity  she  summoned  her  pap- 
tor,  and  took  counsel  with  him.  At  her  request  the  vei 
erable  man  readily  agreed  to  "talk  to"  the  way  wan 
subject,  and  thought  that  his  folly  and  its  consequences 
could  be  placed  before  the  young  man  in  such  a  strong 
and  logical  statement  that  it  would  convince  him  at  once 
that  he  must  "  repent  and  walk  in  the  ways  of  righteous- 
ness." If  Haldane's  errors  had  been  those  of  doctrine, 
Dr.  Marks  would  have  been  an  admirable  guide  ;  but 
the  trouble  was  that  while  the  good  doctor  was  familiar 
with  all  the  readings  of  obscure  Greek  and  Hebrew  texts, 
and  all  the  shades  of  opinions  resulting,  he  was  unac- 


8       KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

quainted  with  even  the  alphabet  of  human  nature.  In 
approaching  "  a  sinner,"  he  had  one  formal  and  unvary- 
ing method,  and  he  chose  his  course  not  from  the  bearing 
of  the  subject  himself,  but  from  certain  general  theolog- 
ical truths  which  he  believed  applied  to  the  "  unrenewed 
heart  of  man  as  a  fallen  race."  He  rather  prided  him- 
self upon  calling  a  sinner  a  sinner,  and  all  things  else  by 
their  right  names  ;  and  thus  it  is  evident  that  he  often 
had  but  httle  of  the  PauUne  guile,  which  enabled  the 
great  apostle  to  entangle  the  wayward  feet  of  Jew,  Greek 
and  Roman,  bond  and  free,  in  heavenly  snares. 

The  youth  whom  he  was  to  convince  and  convert  by  a 
single  broadside  of  truth,  as  it  were,  moved  i-n  such  an 
eccentric  orbit,  that  the  doctor  could  never  bring  his 
heavy  artillery  to  bear  upon  him.  Neither  coaxing  nor 
scolding  on  the  part  of  the  mother  could  bring  about  the 
formal  interview.  At  last,  however,  it  was  secured  by 
an  accident,  and  his  mother  felt  thereafter,  with  a  cer- 
tain sense  of  consolation,  that  "all  had  been  done  that 
could  be  done." 

Entering  the  parlor  unexpectedly  one  afternoon,  Hal- 
dane  stumbled  directly  upon  Dr.  Marks,  who  opened  fire 
at  once,  by  saying  : 

'«  My  young  friend,  this  is  quite  providential,  as  I  have 
long  been  wishing  for  an  interview.  Please  be  seated, 
for  I  have  certain  things  to  say  which  relate  to  your  spir- 
itual and  temporal  well-being,  although  the  latter  is  a 
very  secondary  matter." 

Haldane  was  too  well  bred  to  break  rudely  and 
abruptly  away,  and  yet  it  must  be  admitted  that  he 
complied  with  very  much  the  feeling  and  grace  with 
which  he  would  take  a  dentist's  chair. 

"  My  young  friend,  if  you  ever  wish  to  be  a  saint 
you  must  first  have  a  profound  conviction  that  you  are 
a  sinner.  I  hope  that  you  realize  that  you  are  a  sin- 
ner/' 


BAB   TRAINING  FOB  A   KNIGHT.  9 

"I  am  quite  content  to  be  a  gentleman,"  was  the 
brusque  reply. 

••  But  as  long  as  you  remain  an  impenitent  sinner  you 
can  never  be  even  a  true  gentleman,"  responded  the 
clergyman  somewhat  warmly. 

Haldane  had  caught  a  shocked  and  warning  look  from 
his  mother,  and  so  did  not  reply.  He  saw  that  he  was 
"in  for  it,"  as  he  would  express  himself,  and  surmised 
that  the  less  he  said  the  sooner  the  ordeal  would  be  over. 
He  therefore  took  refuge  in  a  silence  that  was  both  sullen 
and  resentful.  He  was  too  young  and  uncurbed  to 
maintain  a  cold  and  impassive  face,  and  his  dark  eyes 
occasionally  shot  vindictive  gleams  at  both  his  mother 
and  her  ally,  who  had  so  unexpectedly  caged  him  against 
his  will.  Fortunately  the  doctor  was  content,  after  he 
had  got  under  weigh,  to  talk  at,  instead  of  to,  his  hstener, 
and  thus  was  saved  the  mortification  of  asking  questions 
of  one  who  would  not  have  answered. 

After  the  last  sonorous  period  had  been  rounded,  the 
youth  arose,  bowed  stiffly,  and  withdrew,  but  with  a 
heart  overflowing  with  a  malicious  desire  to  retaliate.  At 
the  angle  of  the  house  stood  the  clergyman's  steady - 
going  mare,  and  his  low,  old-fashioned  buggy.  It  was 
but  the  work  of  a  moment  to  slip  part  of  the  shuck  of  a 
horse-chestnut,  with  its  sharp  spines,  under  the  collar, 
so  that  when  the  traces  drew  upon  it  the  spines  would  be 
driven  into  the  poor  beast's  neck.  Then,  going  down  to 
the  main  street  of  the  town,  through  which  he  knew  the 
doctor  must  pass  on  his  way  home,  he  took  his  post  of 
observation. 


CHAPTER  II. 

BOTH   APOLOGIZE. 

Haldane's  hopes  were  realized  beyond  his  anticipa- 
tions, for  the  doctor's  old  mare — at  first  surprised  and 
restless  from  the  wounds  made  by  the  sharp  spines — 
speedily  became  indignant  and  fractious,  and  at  last, 
half  frantic  with  pain,  started  on  a  gallop  down  the 
street,  setting  all  the  town  agog  with  excitement  and 
alarm. 

With  grim  satisfaction  Haldane  saw  the  doctor's  im- 
maculate silk  hat  fly  into  the  mud,  his  wig,  blown  com- 
ically awry,  fall  over  his  eyes,  and  his  spectacles  joggle 
down  until  they  sat  astride  the  tip  of  a  rather  prominent 
nose. 

Having  had  his  revenge  he  at  once  relented,  and  rush- 
ing out  in  advance  of  some  others  who  were  coming  to 
the  rescue,  he  caught  the  poor  beast,  and  stopped  her  so 
suddenly  that  the  doctor  was  nearly  precipitated  over  the 
dash-board.  Then,  pretending  to  examine  the  harness 
to  see  that  nothing  was  broken,  he  quietly  removed  the 
cause  of  irritation,  and  the  naturally  sedate  beast  at  once 
became  far  more  composed  than  her  master,  for,  as  a 
bystander  remarked,  the  venerable  doctor  was  "dread- 
fully shuck  up."  It  was  quite  in  keeping  with  Haldane's 
disingenuous  nature  to  accept  the  old  gentleman's  pro- 
fuse thanks  for  the  rescue.  The  impulse  to  carry  his 
mischief  still  further  was  at  once  acted  upon,  and  he  of- 
fered to  see  the  doctor  safely  home. 

His  services  were  eagerly  accepted,  for  the  poor  man 
was  much  too  unnerved  to  take  the  reins  again,  though, 
10 


BOTH  APOLOGIZE.  11 

had  he  known  it,  the  mare  would  now  have  gone  to  the 
parsonage  quietly,  and  of  her  own  accord. 

The  doctor  was  gradually  righted  up  and  composed. 
His  wig,  which  had  covered  his  left  eye,  was  arranged 
decorously  in  its  proper  place,  and  the  gold-rimmed 
spectacles  pressed  back  so  that  the  good  man  could 
beam  mildly  and  gratefully  upon  his  supposed  preserver. 
The  clerical  hat,  however,  had  lost  its  character  beyond 
recovery,  and  though  its  owner  was  obliged  to  wear  it 
home,  it  must  be  confessed  that  it  did  not  at  all  comport 
with  the  doctor's  dignity  and  calHng. 

Young  Haldane  took  the  reins  with  a  great  show  of 
solicitude  and  vigilance,  appearing  to  dread  another  dis- 
play of  viciousness  from  the  mare,  that  was  now  most 
sheep-like  in  her  docility;  and  thus,  with  his  confiding 
victim,  he  jogged  along  through  the  crowded  street,  the 
object  of  general  approval  and  outspoken  commenda- 
tion. 

"  My  dear  young  friend,"  began  the  doctor  fervently, 
"I  feel  that  you  have  already  repaid  me  amply  for  my 
labors  in  your  behalf." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Haldane  demurely;  "I  think  we 
are  getting  even." 

"This  has  been  a  very  mysterious  affair,"  continued 
the  doctor  musingly;  "  surely  '  a  horse  is  a  vain  thing 
for  safety.'  One  is  almost  tempted  to  believe  that  de- 
moniacal possession  is  not  wholly  a  thing  of  the  past.  In- 
deed, I  could  not  think  of  any  thing  else  while  Dolly  was 
acting  so  viciously  and  unaccountably." 

"I  agree  with  you,"  responded  Haldane  gravely : 
"  she  certainly  did  come  down  the  street  like  the  devil." 

The  doctor  was  a  little  shocked  at  this  putting  of  his 
thoughts  into  plain  English,  for  it  sounded  somewhat 
profanely.  But  he  was  in  no  mood  to  find  fault  with  his 
companion,  and  they  got  on  very  well  together  to  the 
end  of  their  brief  journey.     The  young  scapegrace  was 


12     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURA. 

glad,  indeed,  that  it  was  brief,  for  his  self-control  was 
fast  leaving  him,  and  having  bowed  a  rather  abrupt  fare- 
well to  the  doctor,  he  was  not  long  in  reaching  one  of  his 
haunts,  from  which  during  the  evening,  and  quite  late 
into  the  night,  came  repeated  peals  of  laughter,  tha*^ 
grew  more  boisterous  and  discordant  as  that  synonym  of 
mental  and  moral  anarchy,  the  "  spirit  of  wine,"  gained 
■.he  mastery. 

The  tidings  of  her  son's  exploit  in  rescuing  the  doctor 
vere  not  long  in  reaching  Mrs.  Haldane,  and  she  felt 
.hat  the  good  seed  sown  that  day  had  borne  immediate 
fruit.  She  longed  to  fold  him  in  her  arms  and  commend 
his  courage,  while  she  poured  out  thanksgiving  that  he 
himself  had  escaped  uninjured,  which  immunity,  she  be- 
Eeved,  must  have  resulted  from  the  goodness  and  piety 
©f  the  deed.  But  when  he  at  last  appeared  with  step  so 
unsteady  and  utterance  so  thick  that  even  she  could  not 
mistake  the  cause,  she  was  bewildered  and  bitterly  dis- 
appointed by  the  apparent  cOntradictoriness  of  his  action; 
and  when  he,  too  far  gone  for  dissimulation,  described 
and  acted  out  in  pantomime  the  doctor's  plight  and  ap- 
pearance, she  became  half  hysterical  from  her  desire  to 
laugh,  to  cry,  and  to  give  vent  to  her  kindling  indigna- 
tion. 

This  anger  was  raised  almost  to  the  point  of  white  heat 
on  the  morrow.  The  cause  of  the  old  mare's  behavior, 
and  the  interview  which  had  led  to  the  practical  joke, 
soon  became  an  open  secret,  and  while  it  convulsed  the 
town  with  laughter,  it  also  gave  the  impression  that 
young  Haldane  was  in  a  "  bad  way." 

It  was  not  long  before  Mrs.  Haldane  received  a  note 
from  an  indignant  fellow  church-member,  in  which,  with 
some  disagreeable  comment,  her  son's  conduct  was 
plainly  stated.  She  was  also  informed  that  the  doctor 
had  become  aware  of  the  rude  jest  of  which  he  had  been 
tiae  subject.     Mrs.  Haldane  was  almost  furious ;  but  her 


BOTH  APOLOGIZE.  13 

son  grew  sullen  and  obstinate  as  the  storm  which  he  had. 
raised  increased.  The  only  thing  he  would  say  as  aa^ 
apology  or  excuse  amounted  to  this : 

"What  else  could  he  expect  from  one  whom  he  so 
emphatically  asserted  was  a  sinner?  " 

The  mother  wrote  at  once  to  the  doctor,  and  was  pro- 
fuse in  her  apologies  and  regrets,  but  was  obliged  to  ad^ 
mit  to  him  that  her  son  was  beyond  her  control. 

When  the  doctor  first  learned  the  truth  his  equanimity 
was  almost  as  greatly  disturbed  as  it  had  been  on  the 
previous  day,  and  his  first  emotions  were  obviously  those 
of  wrath.  But  a  little  thought  brought  him  to  a  better 
mood. 

He  was  naturally  deficient  in  tact,  and  his  long  habit 
of  dwelling  upon  abstract  and  systematic  truth  had  dimin- 
ished his  power  of  observantly  and  intuitively  gauging 
the  character  of  the  one  with  whom  he  was  dealing.  He 
therefore  often  failed  wofully  in  adaptation,  and  his  ser- 
mons occasionally  went  off  into  rarefied  realms  of  moral 
space,  where  nothing  human  existed.  But  his  heart  was 
true  and  warm,  and  his  Master's  cause  of  far  more  con- 
sequence to  him  than  his  own  dignity. 

As  he  considered  the  matter  maturely  he  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  there  must  have  been  something  wrong 
on  both  sides.  If  he  had  presented  the  truth  properly 
the  young  man  could  not  have  acted  so  improperly. 
After  recalling  the  whole  affair,  he  became  satisfied  that 
he  had  relied  far  too  much  on  his  own  strong  logic,  and 
it  had  seemed  to  him  that  it  must  convince.  He  had 
forgotten  for  the  moment  that  those  who  would  do  good 
should  be  very  humble,  and  that,  in  a  certain  sense, 
they  must  take  the  hand  of  God,  and  place  it  upon  the 
one  whom  they  would  save. 

Thus  the  honest  old  clergyman  tried  to  search  out  the 
error  and  weakness  which  had  led  to  such  a  lamentable 
failure  in  his  efforts;  and  when  at  last  Mrs.  Haldane's 


14     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

note  of  sorrowful  apology  and  motherly  distress  reached 
him,  his  anger  was  not  only  gone,  but  his  heart  was  full 
of  commiseration  for  both  herself  and  her  son.  He  at 
once  sat  down,  and  wrote  her  a  kind  and  consolatory 
letter,  in  which  he  charged  her  hereafter  to  trust  less  to 
the  "arm  of  flesh"  and  more  to  the  "  power  of  God." 
He  also  inclosed  a  note  to  the  young  man,  which  his 
mother  handed  to  him  with  a  darkly  reproachful  glance. 
He  opened  it  with  a  contemptuous  frown,  expecting  to 
find  within  only  indignant  upbraidings;  but  his  face 
-changed  rapidly  as  he  read  the  following  words  : 

My  dear  young  Friend  : — I  hardly  know  which  of  us 
should  apologize.  I  now  perceive  and  frankly  admit  that  there 
was  wrong  on  my  side.  I  could  not  have  approached  you  and 
spoken  to  you  in  the  right  spirit,  for  if  I  had,  what  followed 
could  not  have  occurred.  I  fear  there  was  a  self-sufficiency  in 
my  words  and  manner  yesterday,  which  made  you  conscious  of 
Dr.  Marks  only,  and  you  had  no  scruples  in  dealing  with  Dr. 
Marks  as  you  did.  If  my  words  and  bearing  had  brought  you 
face  to  face  with  my  august  yet  merciful  Master,  you  would 
have  respected  Him,  and  also  me.  His  servant.  I  confess  that 
I  was  very  angry  this  morning,  for  I  am  human.  But  now  I 
am  more  concerned  lest  I  have  prejudiced  you  against  Him  by 
whom  alone  we  all  are  saved. 

Yours  faithfully, 

Zebulon  Marks. 

The  moment  Haldane  finished  reading  the  note  he  left 
the  room,  and  his  mother  heard  him  at  the  hat-rack  in 
the  hall,  preparing  to  go  out.  She,  supposing  that  he 
■was  again  about  to  seek  some  of  his  evil  haunts,  remon- 
strated sharply  ;  but,  without  paying  the  slightest  atten- 
tion to  her  words,  he  departed,  and  within  less  than  half 
an  hour  rang  the  bell  at  the  parsonage. 

Dr.  Marks  could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes  as  the  young 
man  was  shown  into  his  study,  but  he  welcomed  him  as 


BOTH  APOLOGIZE.  15 

cordially  as  though  nothing  unpleasant  had  occurred  be- 
tween them. 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  and  embarrassment  Hal- 
dane  began, 

"When  I  read  your  note  this  evening  I  had  not  the 
slightest  doubt  that  1  was  the  one  to  apologize,  and  I  sin- 
cerely ask  your  pardon." 

The  old  gentleman's  eyes  grew  moist,  and  he  blew  his 
nose  in  a  rather  unusual  manner.    But  he  said  promptly  : 

"Thank  you,  my  young  friend,  thank  you.  I  appre- 
ciate this.  But  no  matter  about  me.  How  about  my 
Master?  won't  you  become  reconciled  to  Him?  " 

"I  suppose  by  that  you  mean,  won't  you  be  a  Chris- 
tian? " 

"  That  is  just  what  I  mean  and  most  desire.  I  should 
be  willing  to  risk  broken  bones  any  day  to  accomplish 
that." 

Haldane  smiled,  shook  his  head,  and  after  a  moment 
said  : 

"I  must  confess  that  I  have  not  the  slightest  wish  to 
become  a  Christian." 

The  old  gentleman's  eager  and  interested  expression 
•changed  instantly  to  one  of  the  deepest  sorrow  and  com- 
miseration. At  the  same  time  he  appeared  bewildered 
and  perplexed,  but  murmured,  more  in  soliloquy  than  as 
an  address  to  the  young  man, 

"  O  Ephraim  !  how  shall  I  give  thee  up  ?  " 

Haldane  was  touched  by  the  venerable  man's  tone 
and  manner,  more  than  he  would  have  thought  possible, 
and,  feeling  that  he  could  not  trust  himself  any  longer, 
determined  to  make  his  escape  as  soon  as  practicable. 
But  as  he  rose  to  take  his  leave  he  said,  a  little  impul- 
sively : 

"  I  feel  sure,  sir,  that  if  you  had  spoken  and  looked 
yesterday  as  you  do  this  evening  I  would  not  have — I 
would  not  have — " 


16     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

"  I  understand,  my  young  friend  :  I  now  feel  sure  that 
I  was  more  to  blame  than  yourself,  and  your  part  is  al- 
ready forgiven  and  forgotten.  I  am  now  only  sohcitous 
Sihoutj/ou." 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  feel  so  after  what  has  happened, 
and  I  will  say  this  much — If  I  ever  do  wish  to  become  a 
Christian,  there  is  no  one  living  to  whom  I  will  come  for 
counsel  more  quickly  than  yourself.     Good  night,  sir." 

•'  Give  me  your  hand  before  you  go." 

It  was  a  strong,  warm,  lingering  grasp  that  the  old 
man  gave,  and  in  the  dark  days  of  temptation  that  fol- 
lowed, Haldane  often  felt  that  it  had  a  helping  and  sus- 
taining influence. 

"I  wish  I  could  hold  on  to  you,"  said  the  doctor 
huskily  ;  "I  wish  I  could  lead  you  by  loving  force  into 
the  paths  of  pleasantness  and  peace.  But  what  I  can't 
do,  God  can.     Good-by,  and  God  bless  you." 

Haldane  fled  rather  precipitously,  for  he  felt  that  he 
was  becoming  constrained  by  a  loving  violence  that  was 
as  mysterious  as  it  was  powerful.  Before  he  had  passed 
through  the  main  street  of  the  town,  however,  a  reckless 
companion  placed  an  arm  in  his,  and  led  him  to  one  of 
their  haunts,  where  he  drank  deeper  than  usual,  that  he 
might  get  rid  of  the  compunctions  which  the  recent  inter- 
view had  occasioned. 

His  mother  was  almost  in  despair  when  he  returned. 
He  had,  indeed,  become  to  her  a  terrible  and  perplexing 
problem.  As  she  considered  the  legitimate  results  of  her 
own  weak  indulgence  she  would  sigh  again  and  again  : 

"  Never  was  there  a  darker  and  more  mysterious  prov- 
idence. I  feel  that  I  can  neither  understand  it  nor  sub- 
mit." 

A  sense  of  helplessness  in  dealing  with  this  stubborn 
and  perverse  will  overwhelmed  her,  and,  while  feeling 
that  something  must  be  done,  she  was  at  a  loss  what  to 
do.     Her  spiritual  adviser  having  failed  to  meet  the  case. 


BOTH  J.rOLOGIZE.  17 

she  next  summoned  her  legal  counselor,  who  managed 
Uer  property. 

He  was  a  man  of  few  words,  and  an  adept  in  worldly 
wisG'^m. 

•  Your  son  should  have  employment,"  he  said  ; 

"  <  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still 
For  idle  hands,' 

etc.,  is  a  sound  maxim,  if  not  first-class  poetry.  If  Mr. 
Arnot,  the  husband  of  your  old  friend,  is  willing  to  take 
him,  you  cannot  do  better  than  place  your  son  in  his 
charge,  for  he  is  one  of  the  most  methodical  and  success- 
ful business  men  of  my  acquaintance." 

Mrs.  Arnot,  in  response  to  her  friend's  letter,  induced 
her  husband  to  make  a  position  in  his  counting-house  for 
young  Haldane,  who,,  /lom  a  natural  desire  to  see  more 
of  the  world,  entered  iiitj.  the  arrangement  very  willingly. 


CHAPTER  III. 

CHAINED   TO   AN    ICEBERG. 

HiLLATON,  the  suburban  city  in  which  the  Arnots  re- 
sided, was  not  very  distant  from  New  York,  and  drew 
much  of  its  prosperity  from  its  relations  with  the  me- 
tropohs.  It  prided  itself  much  on  being  a  university 
town,  but  more  because  many  old  families  of  extremely 
blue  blood  and  large  wealth  gave  tone  and  color  to  its 
society.  It  is  true  that  this  highest  social  circle  was  very 
exclusive,  and  formed  but  a  small  fraction  of  the  popu- 
lation ;  but  the  people  in  general  had  come  to  speak  of 
"  our  society,"  as  being  "  unusually  good,"  just  as  they 
commended  to  strangers  the  architecture  of  "  our  col- 
lege buildings,"  though  they  had  little  to  do  with  either. 

Mrs.  Arnot's  blood,  however,  was  as  blue  as  that  of 
the  most  ancient  and  aristocratic  of  her  neighbors,  while 
in  character  and  culture  she  had  few  equals.  But  with 
the  majority  of  those  most  cerulean  in  their  vital  fluid 
the  fact  that  she  possessed  large  wealth  in  her  own  name, 
and  was  the  wife  of  a  man  engaged  in  a  colossal  busi- 
ness, weighed  more  than  all  her  graces  and  ancestral 
honors. 

Young  Haldane's  employer,  Mr.  Arnot,  was,  indeed,  a 
man  of  business  and  method,  for  the  one  absorbed  his 
very  soul,  and  the  other  divided  his  life  into  cubes  and 
right  angles  of  manner  and  habit.  It  could  scarcely  be 
said  that  he  had  settled  down  into  ruts,  for  this  would 
presuppose  the  passiveness  of  a  nature  controlled  largely 
by  circumstances.  People  w^ho  travel  in  ruts  drop  more 
often  into  those  made  by  others  than  such  as  are  worn  by 

18 


CHAINED   TO  AN  ICEBERG.  19 

themselves.  Mr.  Arnot  moved  rather  in  his  own  well- 
defined  grooves,  which  he  had  deliberately  furrowed  out 
with  his  own  steely  will.  In  these  he  went  through  the 
day  with  the  same  strong,  relentless  precision  which 
characterized  the  machinery  in  his  several  manufactur- 
ing establishments. 

He  was  a  man,  too,  who  had  always  had  his  own  way, 
and,  as  is  usually  true  in  such  instances,  the  forces  of  his 
life  had  become  wholly  centripetal. 

The  cosmos  of  the  selfish  man  or  woman  is  practically 
this — Myself  the  center  of  the  universe,  and  all  things 
else  are  near  or  remote,  of  value  or  otherwise,  in  accord- 
ance with  their  value  and  interest  to  me. 

Measuring  by  this  scale  of  distances  (which  was  the 
only  correct  one  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Arnot)  the  wife  of  his 
bosom  was  quite  a  remote  object.  She  formed  no  part 
of  his  business,  and  he,  in  his  hard,  narrow  worldliness, 
could  not  even  understand  the  principles  and  motives  of 
her  action.  She  was  a  true  and  dutiful  wife,  and  pre- 
sided over  his  household  with  elegance  and  refinement  ; 
but  he  regarded  all  this  as  a  matter  of  course.  He  could 
not  conceive  of  any  thing  else  in  his  wife.  All  his  "  sub- 
ordinates "  in  their  several  spheres,  "must"  perform 
their  duties  with  becoming  propriety.  Every  thing 
•'  must  be  regular  and  systematic  "  in  his  house,  as  truly 
as  in  his  factories  and  counting-room. 

Mrs.  Arnot  endeavored  to  conform  to  his  peculiarities 
in  this  respect,  and  kept  open  the  domestic  grooves  in 
which  it  was  necessary  to  his  peace  that  he  should  move 
regularly  and  methodically.  He  had  his  meals  at  the 
hour  he  chose,  to  the  moment,  and  when  he  retired  to 
his  library — or,  rather,  the  business  office  at  his  house — 
not  the  throne-room  of  King  Ahasuerus  was  more  sacred 
from  intrusion;  and  seldom  to  his  wife,  even,  was  the 
scepter  of  favor  and  welcome  held  out,  should  she  ven- 
ture to  enter. 


20     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NUlE'lEENrH  CENTURY. 

For  a  long  time  she  had  tried  to  be  m  affectionate  as 
well  as  a  faithful  wife,  for  she  had  married  this  man 
from  love.  She  had  mistaken  his  cool  self-poise  for  the 
calmness  and  steadiness  of  strength  ;  and  women  are 
captivated  by  strength,  and  sometimes  by  its  semblance. 
He  was  strong  ;  but  so  also  are  the  driving-wheels  of  an 
engine. 

There  is  an  undefined,  half-recognized  force  in  nature 
which  leads  many  to  seek  to  balance  themselves  by  mar- 
rying their  opposites  in  temperament.  While  the  general 
working  of  this  tendency  is,  no  doubt,  beneficent,  it  not 
unfrequently  brings  together  those  who  are  so  radically 
different,  that  they  cannot  supplement  each  other,  but 
must  ever  remain  two  distinct,  unblended  lives,  that  are 
in  duty  bound  to  obey  the  letter  of  the  law  of  marriage, 
but  who  cannot  fulfill  its  spirit. 

For  years  Mrs.  Arnot  had  sought  with  all  a  woman's 
tact  to  consummate  their  marriage,  so  that  the  mystical 
words  of  God,  "And  they  twain  shall  be  one  flesh," 
should  describe  their  union  ;  but  as  time  passed  she  had 
seen  her  task  grow  more  and  more  hopeless.  The  con- 
trolling principles  of  each  life  were  utterly  different.  He 
was  hardening  into  stone,  while  the  dross  and  materiality 
of  her  nature  were  being  daily  refined  away.  A  strong 
but  wholly  selfish  character  cannot  blend  by  giving  and 
taking,  and  thus  becoming  modified  into  something  dif- 
ferent and  better.  It  can  only  absorb,  and  thus  drag 
down  to  its  own  condition.  Before  there  can  be  unity, 
the  weaker  one  must  give  up  and  yield  personal  will  and 
independence  to  such  a  degree  that  it  is  almost  equiva- 
lent to  being  devoured  and  assimilated. 

But  Mr.  Arnot  seemed  to  grow  too  narrow  and  self- 
sufificient  in  his  nature  for  such  spiritual  cannibalism, 
even  had  his  wife  been  a  weak,  neutral  character,  with 
no  decided  and  persistent  individuality  of  her  own.  He 
was  not  slow  in  exacting  outward  and  mechanical  service. 


CHAINED   TO  AN  ICEBERG.  21 

but  he  had  no  time  to  "  bother"  with  her  thoughts,  feel- 
ings, and  opinions  ;  nor  did  he  think  it  worth  while,  to 
any  extent,  to  lead  her  to  reflect  only  his  feelings  and 
opinions.  Neither  she  nor  any  one  else  was  very  essen- 
tial to  him.  His  business  was  necessary,  and  he  valued 
it  even  more  than  the  wealth  which  resulted  from  it.  He 
grew  somewhat  like  his  machinery,  which  needed  atten- 
tion, but  which  cherished  no  sentiments  toward  those  who 
waited  on  it  during  its  hours  of  motion. 

Thus,  though  not  deliberately  intending  it,  his  manner 
toward  his  wife  had  come  to  be  more  and  more  the 
equivalent  of  a  steady  black  frost,  and  she  at  last  feared 
that  the  man  had  congealed  or  petrified  to  his  very 
heart's  core. 

While  the  only  love  in  Mr.  Arnot's  heart  was  self-love, 
even  in  this  there  existed  no  trace  of  weak  indulgence 
and  tenderness.  His  life  consisted  in  making  his  vast 
and  complicated  business  go  forward  steadily,  systemat- 
ically, and  successfully  ;  and  he  would  not  permit  that 
entity  known  as  Thomas  Arnot  to  thwart  him  any  more 
than  he  would  brook  opposition  or  neglect  in  his  office- 
boy.  All  things,  even  himself,  must  bend  to  the  further- 
ance of  his  cherished  objects. 

But,  whatever  else  was  lacking,  Mr.  Arnot  had  a  pro- 
found respect  for  his  wife.  First  and  chiefly,  she  was 
wealthy,  and  he,  having  control  of  her  property,  made 
it  subservient  to  his  business.  He  had  chafed  at  first 
against  what  he  termed  her  "  sentimental  ways  of  doing 
good  "  and  her  "  ridiculous  theories,"  but  in  these  mat- 
ters he  had  ever  found  her  as  gentle  as  a  woman,  but  as 
unyielding  as  granite.  She  told  him  plainly  that  her  re- 
ligious life  and  its  expression  were  matters  between  her- 
self and  God — that  it  was  a  province  into  which  his  cast- 
iron  system  and  material  philosophy  could  not  enter. 
He  grumbled  at  her  large  charities,  and  declared  that 
she  "  turned  their  dwelling  into  a  club-house  for  young 


22     KNKillT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

men;"  but  she  followed  her  conscience  with  such  a 
quiet,  unswerving  dignity  that  he  found  no  pretext  for 
interference.  The  money  she  gave  away  was  her  own, 
and  fortunately,  the  house  to  which  it  was  her  delight  to 
draw  young  men  from  questionable  and  disreputable 
places  of  resort  had  been  left  to  her  by  her  father. 
Though  she  did  not  continually  remind  her  husband  of 
these  facts,  as  an  under-bred  woman  might  have  done, 
her  manner  was  so  assured  and  unhesitating  that  he  was 
compelled  to  recognize  her  rights,  and  to  see  that  she 
was  fully  aware  of  them  also.  Since  she  yielded  so 
gracefully  and  considerately  all  and  more  than  he  could 
justly  claim,  he  finally  concluded  to  ignore  what  he  re- 
garded as  her  "peculiarities."  As  for  himself,  he  had 
no  peculiarities'.  He  was  a  "  pracdcal,  sensible  man, 
with  no  nonsense  about  him." 

Mrs.  Hakiane  had  been  in  such  sore  straits  and  per- 
plexity about  her  son  that  she  overcame  her  habitual  re- 
serve upon  family  and  personal  matters,  and  wrote  \.o 
her  friend  a  long  and  confidential  letter,  in  which  she 
fully  described  the  "  mysterious  providence  "  which  was 
clouding  her  life. 

Mrs.  Arnot  had  long  been  aw^are  of  her  friend's  in- 
firmity, and  more  than  once  had  sought  with  delicacy 
and  yet  with  faithfulness  to  open  her  eyes  to  the  conse- 
•quences  of  her  indulgence.  But  Mrs.  Haldane,  unfor- 
tunately, was  incapable  of  taking  a  broad,  and  therefore 
correct,  view  of  any  thing.  She  was  governed  far  more 
by  her  prejudices  and  feelings  than  by  reason  or  experi- 
ence, and  the  emotion  or  prejudice  uppermost  absorbed 
her  mind  so  completely  as  to  exclude  all  other  consider- 
ations. Her  friendship  for  Mrs.  Arnot  had  commenced 
at  school,  but  the  two  ladies  had  developed  so  differently 
that  the  relation  had  become  more  a  cherished  memory 
of  the  happy  past  than  a  congenial  intimacy  of  their 
maturer  life. 


CHAIXED    TO  AN  ICEBERG.  23 

The  "  mysterious  providence  "  of  which  Mrs.  Haldane 
wrote  was  to  Mrs.  Arnot  a  legitimate  and  ahnost  inevita- 
ble result.  But,  now  that  the  mischief  had  been  accom- 
phshed,  she  was  the  last  one  in  the  world  to  say  to  her 
friend,  "I  told  you  so."  To  her  mind  the  providential 
feature  in  the  matter  was  the  chance  that  had  come  to 
her  of  counteracting  the  evil  which  the  mother  had  un- 
consciously developed.  This  opportunity  was  in  the  line 
of  her  most  cherished  plan  and  hope  of  usefulness,  as 
will  be  hereafter  seen,  and  she  had  lost  no  time  in  per- 
suading her  husband  to  give  Haldane  employment  in  his 
counting-room.  She  also  secured  his  consent  that  the 
youth  should  become  a  member  of  the  family,  for  a  time 
at  least.  Mr.  Arnot  yielded  these  points  reluctantly,  for 
it  was  a  part  of  his  policy  to  have  no  more  personal  re- 
lations with  his  employes  than  with  his  machinery.  He 
wished  them  to  feel  that  they  were  merely  a  part  of  his 
system,  and  that  the  moment  any  one  did  not  work  reg- 
ularly and  accurately  he  must  be  cast  aside  as  certainly 
as  a  broken  or  defective  wheel.  But  as  his  wife's  wealth 
made  her  practically  a  silent  partner  in  his  vast  business, 
he  yielded — though  with  rather  ill  grace,  and  with  a  pre- 
diction that  it  "  would  not  work  well." 

Haldane  w^as  aware  that  his  mother  had  written  a  long 
letter  to  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  he  supposed  that  his  employer 
and  his  wife  had  thus  become  acquainted  with  all  his 
misdeeds.  He,  therefore,  rather  dreaded  to  meet  those 
who  must,  from  the  first,  regard  him  as  a  graceless  and 
difficult  subject,  that  could  not  be  managed  at  home. 
But,  with  the  characteristic  recklessness  of  young  men 
who  have  wealth  to  fall  back  upon,  he  had  fortified  him- 
self by  thoughts  like  the  following  : 

"  If  they  do  not  treat  me  well,  or  try  to  put  me  into  a 
straight-jacket,  or  if  I  find  the 'counting-house  too  dull, 
I  can  bid  them  good  morning  whenever  I  choose." 

But  Mrs.  Arnot' s  frank  and  cordial  reception  was  an 


24     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

agreeable  surprise.  He  arrived  quite  late  in  the  evening, 
and  she  had  a  dehghtful  little  lunch  brought  to  him  in 
her  private  parlor.  By  the  time  it  was  eaten  her  grace- 
ful tact  had  banished  all  stiffness  and  sense  of  strange- 
ness, and  he  found  himself  warming  into  friendliness 
toward  one  whom  he  had  especially  dreaded  as  a  "re- 
markably pious  lady  " — for  thus  his  mother  had  always 
spoken  of  her. 

It  was  scarcely  strange  that  he  should  be  rapidly  dis- 
armed by  this  lady,  who  cannot  be  described  in  a  para- 
graph. Though  her  face  was  rather  plain,  it  was  so 
expressive  of  herself  that  it  seldom  failed  to  fascinate. 
Nature  can  do  much  to  render  a  countenance  attractive, 
but  character  accomplishes  far  more.  The  beauty  which 
is  of  feature  merely  catches  the  careless,  wandering  eye. 
The  beauty  which  is  the  reflex  of  character  holds  the  eye, 
and  eventually  wins  the  heart.  Those  who  knew  Mrs. 
Arnot  best  declared  that,  instead  of  growing  old  and 
homely,  she  was  growing  more  lovely  every  year.  Her 
■dark  hair  had  turned  gray  early,  and  was  fast  becoming 
snowy  white.  For  some  years  after  her  marriage  she 
had  grown  old  very  fast.  She  had  dwelt,  as  it  were,  on 
the  northern  side  of  an  iceberg,  and  in  her  vain  attempt 
to  melt  and  humanize  it,  had  alrnost  perished  herself. 
As  the  earthly  streams  and  rills  that  fed  her  life  con- 
gealed, she  was  led  to  accept  of  the  love  of  God,  and 
the  long  arctic  winter  of  her  despair  passed  gradually 
away.  She  was  now  growing  young  again.  A  faint 
bloom  was  dawning  in  her  cheeks,  and  her  form  was 
gaining  that  fullness  which  is  associated  with  the  ma- 
turity of  middle  age.  H<;r  bright  black  eyes  were 
the  most  attractive  and  expressive  feature  which  she 
possessed,  and  they  often  seemed  gifted  with  peculiar 
powers.  • 

As  they  beamed  upon  the  young  man  they  had  much 
the  same  effect  as  the  anthracite  coals  which  glowed  in 


CHAINED    TO  AN  ICEBERG.  25 

the  grate,  and  he  began  to  be  conscious  of  some  disposi- 
tion to  give  her  his  confidence. 

Having  dismissed  the  servant  with  the  lunch  tray,  she 
caused  him  to  draw  his  chair  sociably  up  to  the  fire,  and 
said,  without  any  circumlocution  : 

"Mr.  Haldane,  perhaps  this  is  the  best  time  for  us  to 
have  a  frank  talk  in  regard  to  the  future." 

The  young  man  thought  that  this  was  the  preface  for 
some  decided  criticism  of  the  past,  and  his  face  became 
a  little  hard  and  defiant.  But  in  this  he  was  mistaken, 
for  the  lady  made  no  reference  to  his  faults,  of  which 
she  had  been  informed  by  his  mother.  She  spoke  in  a 
kindly  but  almost  in  a  business-like  way  of  his  duties  in 
the  counting-room,  and  of  the  domestic  rules  of  the  house- 
hold, to  which  he  would  be  expected  to  conform.  She 
also  spoke  plainly  of  her  husband's  inexorable  require- 
ment of  system,  regularity,  and  order,  and  dwelt  upon 
the  fact  that  all  in  his  employ  conformed  to  this  demand,, 
and  that  it  was  the  business-like  and  manly  thing  to  do. 

"  This  is  your  first  venture  out  into  the  world,  I  under- 
stand," she  said,  rising  to  intimate  that  their  interview 
was  over,  "  and  I  greatly  wish  that  it  may  lead  toward  a 
useful  and  successful  career.  I  have  spoken  plainly  be- 
cause I  wished  you  to  realize  just  what  you  have  under- 
taken, and  thus  meet  with  no  unpleasant  surprises  or 
unexpected  experiences.  When  one  enters  upon  a  course 
with  his  eyes  open,  he  in  a  certain  sense  pledges  himself 
to  do  the  best  he  can  in  that  line  of  duty,  and  our  ac- 
quaintance, though  so  brief,  has  convinced  me  that  you 
ccm  do  very  well  indeed." 

"I  was  under  the  impression,"  said  the  young  man^ 
coloring  deeply,  "  that  my  mother's  letter  had  led  you  to 
suppose — to  expect  just  the  contrary." 

"  Mr.  Haldane,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  giving  him  her  hand 
with  graceful  tact,  "  I  shall  form  my  opinion  of  you  solely 
on  the  ground  of  your  own  action,  and  I  wish  you  to  think 


126     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

of  me  as  a  friend  who  takes  a  genuine  interest  in  your 
success.     Good  night." 

He  went  to  his  room  in  quite  a  heroic  and  virtuous 
mood. 

••She  does  not  treat  me  a  bit  hke  a  •  bad  boy,'  as  I 
supposed  she  would,"  he  thought  ;  "  but  appears  to  take 
it  for  granted  that  I  shall  be  a  gentleman  in  this  her 
house,  and  a  sensible  fellow  in  her  husband's  office. 
Blow  me  if  I  disappoint  her !  " 

Nor  did  he  for  several  weeks.  Even  Mr.  Arnot  was 
•compelled  to  admit  that  it  did  "work  rather  better  than 
he  expected,"  and  that  he  '•supposed  the  young  fellow 
•did  as  well  as  he  could." 

As  the  novelty  of  Haldane's  new  relations  wore  off, 
liowever,  and  as  his  duties  became  so  familiar  as  to  be 
chiefly  a  matter  of  routine,  the  grave  defects  of  his  char- 
acter and  training  began  to  show  themselves.  The  re- 
straint of  the  counting-room  grew  irksome.  Associations 
were  formed  in  the  city  which  tended  toward  his  old  evil 
habits.  As  a  piece  of  Mr.  Arnot' s  machinery  he  did  not 
Tiiove  with  the  increasing  precision  that  his  employer  re- 
-quired  and  expected  on  his  becoming  belter  acquainted 
nvith  his  duties. 

Mrs.  Arnot  had  expected  this,  and  knew  that  her  hus- 
'Oand  would  tolerate  carelessness  and  friction  only  up  to 
a  certain  point.  She  had  gained  more  influence  over  the 
young  man  than  any  one  else  had  ever  possessed,  and 
by  means  of  it  kept  him  within  bounds  for  some  time  ; 
but  she  saw  from  her  husband's  manner  that  things  were 
fast  approaching  a  crisis. 

One  evening  she  kindly,  but  frankly,  told  him  of  the 
danger  in  which  he  stood  of  an  abrupt,  stern  dismissal. 

He  was  more  angry  than  alarmed,  and  during  the 
following  day  about  concluded  that  he  would  save  him- 
self any  such  mortification  by  leaving  of  his  own  accord. 
He  quite  persuaded  himself  that  he  had  a  soul  above 


CHAINED    TO  AN  ICEBERG.  27 

plodding  business,  and  that,  after  enjoying  himself  at 
home  for  a  time,  he  could  enter  upon  some  other  career,, 
that  promised  more  congeniality  and  renown. 

In  order  that  his  employer  might  not  anticipate  him, 
he  performed  his  duties  very  accurately  that  day,  but 
left  the  office  with  the  expectation  of  never  returning. 

He  had  very  decided  compunctions  in  thus  requiting 
Mrs.  Arnot's  kindness,  but  muttered  recklessly  : 

"  I'm  tired  of  this  humdrum,  treadmill  life,  and  believe 
I'm  destined  to  better  things.  If  I  could  only  get  a  good 
position  in  the  army  or  navy,  the  world  would  hear  from 
me.  They  say  money  opens  every  door,  and  mother 
must  open  some  good  w^ide  door  for  me." 

Regardless  now  of  his  employer's  good  or  bad  opinion, 
he  came  down  late  to  supper  ;  but,  instead  of  observing 
with  careless  defiance  the  frown  which  he  knew  lowered 
toward  him,  hfs  eyes  were  drawn  to  a  fair  young  face  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  table. 

Mrs.  Arnot,  in  her  pleasant,  cordial  voice,  which  made 
the  simplest  thing  she  said  seem  real  and  hearty,  rather 
than  conventional,  introduced  him  : 

"Mr.  Haldane,  my  niece,  Miss  Laura  Romeyn. 
Laura,  no  doubt,  can  do  far  more  than  an  old  lady  to 
make  your  evenings  pass  brightly." 

After  a  second  glance  of  scrutiny,  Haldane  was  so 
ungratefully  forgetful  of  all  Mrs.  Arnot's  kindness  as  to 
be  inclined  to  agree  with  her  remark. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

IMMATURE. 

"  Is  she  a  young  lady,  or  merely  a  school-girl?  "  was 
Haldane's  query  concerning  the  stranger  sitting  opposite 
to  him  ;  and  he  addressed  to  her  a  few  commonplace  but 
exploring  remarks.  Regarding  himself  as  well  acquainted 
with  society  in  general,  and  young  ladies  in  particular, 
he  expected  to  solve  the  question  at  once,  and  was  per- 
plexed that  he  could  not.  He  had  flirted  with  several 
misses  as  immature  as  himself,  and  so  thought  that  he 
•was  profoundly  versed  in  the  mysteries  of  the  sex. 
"^'They  naturally  lean  toward  and  look  ifp  to  men,  and 
one  is  a  fool,  or  else  lacking  in  personal  appearance,  who 
does  not  have  his  own  way  with  them,"  was  his  opinion, 
substantially. 

Modesty  is  a  grace  which  fine-looking  young  men  of 
large  wealth  are  often  taught  by  some  severe  experiences, 
if  it  is  ever  learned.  Haldane,  as  yet,  had  not  received 
such  wholesome  depletion.  His  self-approval  and  as- 
surance, moreover,  were  quite  natural,  since  his  mother 
and  sisters  had  seldom  lost  an  opportunity  of  developing 
and  confirming  these  traits.  The  yielding  of  women  to 
his  will  and  wishes  had  been  one  of  the  most  uniform 
experiences  of  his  life,  and  he  had  come  to  regard  it  as 
the  natural  order  of  things.  Without  formulating  the 
thought  in  plain  words,  he  nevertheless  regarded  Mrs. 
Arnot's  kindness,  by  which  she  sought  to  gain  a  helpful 
influence  over  him,  as  largely  due  to  some  peculiar  fasci- 
nation of  his  own,  which  made  him  a  favoiite  wherever 
he  chose  to  be.     Of  course,  the  young  stranger  on  the 

28 


nniA  TUBE.  29 

opposite  side  of  the  table  would  prove  no  exception  ta 
the  rule,  and  all  he  had  to  do  was  to  satisfy  himself  that 
she  was  sufficiently  pretty  and  interesting  to  make  it 
worth  while  to  pay  her  a  httle  attention. 

But  for  some  reason  she  did  not  seem  greatly  im- 
pressed by  his  commonplace  and  rather  patronizing 
remarks.  Was  it  pride  or  dignity  on  her  part,  or  was  it 
mere  girhsh  shyness  ?  It  must  be  the  latter,  for  there  was 
no  occasion  for  pride  and  dignity  in  her  manner  tov.  ard 
him. 

Then  came  the  thought  that  possibly  Mrs.  Arnot  had 
not  told  her  who  he  was,  and  that  she  looked  upon  him 
as  a  mere  clerk  of  low  degree.  To  remove  from  her 
mind  any  such  error,  his  tones  and  manner  became  stilt 
more  self-asserting  and  patronizing. 

"  If  she  has  any  sense  at  all,"  he  thought,  "  she  shall 
see  that  I  have  peculiar  claims  to  her  respect." 

As  he  proceeded  in  these  tactics,  there  was  a  growing 
expression  of  surprise  and  a  trace  of  indignation  upon  the 
young  girl's  face.  Mrs.  Arnot  watched  the  by-play  with 
an  amused  expression.  There  was  not  much  cynicism 
in  her  nature.  She  believed  that  experience  would  soon 
prick  the  bubble  of  his  vanity  and  it  was  her  disposition 
to  smile  rather  than  to  sneer  at  absurdity  in  others. 
Besides,  she  was  just.  She  never  applied  to  a  young 
man  of  twenty  the  standard  by  which  she  would  measure 
those  of  her  own  age,  and  she  remembered  Haldane's  an- 
tecedents.    But  Mr.  Arnot  went  to  his  library  muttering, 

"  The  ridiculous  fool !  " 

When  Miss  Romeyn  rose  from  the  table,  Haldane 
saw  that  she  was  certainly  tall  enough  to  be  a  young 
lady,  for  she  was  slightly  above  medium  height.  He  still 
believed  that  she  was  very  young,  however,  for  her  figure 
was  slight  and  girhsh,  and  while  her  bearing  was  grace- 
ful it  had  not  that  assured  and  pronounced  character  to 
which  he  had  been  accustomed. 


30     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"She  evidently  has  not  seen  much  of  society.  Well, 
since  she  is  not  gawky,  I  like  her  better  than  if  she  were 
i?Iase.  Any  thing  but  your  b/ase  girls,"  he  observed  to 
himself,  with  a  consciousness  that  he  was  an  experienced 
man  of  the  world. 

The  piano  stood  open  in  the  drawing-room,  and  this 
suggested  music.  Haldane  had  at  his  tongue's  end  the 
names  of  half  a  dozen  musicians  whose  professional  titles 
had  been  prominent  in  the  newspapers  for  a  few  months 
previous,  and  whose  merits  had  formed  a  part  of  the 
•current  chit-chat  of  the  day.  Some  he  had  heard,  and 
others  he  had  not,  but  he  could  talk  volubly  of  all,  and 
he  asked  Miss  Romeyn  for  her  opinion  of  one  and  another 
in  a  manner  which  implied  that  of  course  she  knew  about 
them,  and  that  ignorance  in  regard  to  such  persons  was 
not  to  be  expected. 

Her  face  colored  with  annoyance,  but  she  said  quietly 
and  a  trifle  coldly  that  she  had  not  heard  them. 

Mrs.  Arnot  again  smiled  as  she  watched  the  young 
people,  but  she  now  came  to  her  niece's  rescue,  thinking 
also  it  would  be  well  to  disturb  Haldane' s  sense  of  supe- 
riority somewhat.     So  she  said  : 

"  Laura,  since  we  cannot  hear  this  evening  the  cele- 
brated artists  that  Mr.  Haldane  has  mentioned,  we  must 
content  ourselves  with  simple  home  music.  Won't  you 
play  for  us  that  last  selection  of  which  you  wrote  to  me  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  dare,  auntie,  since  Mr.  Haldane  is  such  a 
critical  judge,  and  has  heard  so  much  music  from  those 
who  make  it  a  business  to  be  perfect.  He  must  have 
listened  to  the  selection  you  name  a  hundred  times,  for  it 
is  familiar  to  most  lovers  of  good  music," 

Haldane  had  sudden  misgivings.  Suppose  he  had  not 
heard  it?  This  would  be  awkward,  after  his  assumed 
acquaintance  with  such  matters. 

"  Even  if  Mr.  Haldane  is  familiar  with  it,"  Mrs.  Arnot 
replied,   "  Steibelt's  Storm   Rondo  will  bear  repetition. 


IMMATURE.  31 

Besides,  his  criticism  may  be  helpful,  since  he  can  tell 
you  wherein  you  come  short  of  the  skilled  professionals." 

Laura  caught  the  twinkle  in  her  aunt's  eye,  and  went 
to  the  piano. 

The  young  man  saw  at  once  that  he  had  been  caught 
in  his  own  trap,  for  the  music  was  utterly  unfamiliar. 
The  rondo  was  no  wonderful  piece  of  intricacy,  such  as  a 
professional  might  choose.  On  the  contrary,  it  was 
simple,  and  quite  within  the  capabilities  of  a  young  and 
well-taught  girl.  But  it  was  full  of  rich  melody  which 
even  he,  in  his  ignorance,  could  understand  and  appre- 
ciate, and  yet,  for  aught  that  he  knew,  it  was  difficult  in 
the  extreme. 

At  first  he  had  a  decided  sense  of  humiliation,  and  a 
consciousness  that  it  was  deserved.  He  had  been  talk- 
ing largely  and  confidently  of  an  art  concerning  which 
he  knew  little,  and  in  which  he  began  to  think  that  his 
listener  was  quite  well  versed. 

But  as  the  thought  of  the  composer  grew  in  power  and 
beauty  he  forgot  himself  and  his  dilemma  in  his  enjoy- 
ment. Two  senses  were  finding  abundant  gratification 
at  the  same  time,  for  it  was  a  delight  to  listen,  and  it  was 
even  a  greater  pleasure  to  look  at  the  performer. 

She  gave  him  a  quick,  shy  glance  of  observation,  fear- 
ing somewhat  that  she  might  see  severe  judgment  or  else 
cool  indifference  in  the  expression  of  his  face,  and  she 
was  naturally  pleased  and  encouraged  when  she  saw,  in- 
stead, undisguised  admiration.  His  previous  manner  had 
annoyed  her,  and  she  determined  to  show  him  that  his 
superior  airs  were  quite  uncalled  for.  Thus  the  diffident 
girl  was  led  to  surpass  herself,  and  infuse  so  much  spirit 
and  gr^ce  into  her  playing  as  to  surprise  even  her  aunt. 

Haldane  was  soon  satisfied  that  she  was  more  than 
pretty — that  she  was  beautiful.  Her  features,  that  had 
seemed  too  thin  and  colorless,  flushed  with  excitement, 
and  her  blue  eyes,  which  he  had  thought  cold  and  ex- 


32     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

pressionless,  kindled  until  they  became  lustrous.  He 
felt,  in  a  way  that  he  could  not  define  to  himself,  that  her 
face  was  full  of  power  and  mind  and  that  she  was  different 
from  the  pretty  girls  who  had  hitherto  been  his  favorites. 

As  she  rose  from  the  piano  he  was  mastered  by  one  of 
those  impulses  which  often  served  him  in  the  place  of 
something  better,  and  he  said  impetuously  : 

"Miss  Romeyn,  I  beg  your  pardon.  You  know  a 
hundred-fold  more  about  music  than  I  do,  and  I  have 
been  talking  as  if  the  reverse  were  true.  I  never  heard 
any  thing  so  fine  in  my  life,  and  I  also  confess  that  I 
never  heard  that  piece  before." 

The  young  girl  blushed  with  pleasure  on  having  thus 
speedily  vanquished  this  superior  being,  whom  she  had 
Deen  learning  both  to  dread  and  dislike.  At  the  same 
dme  his  frank,  impulsive  words  of  compliment  did  much 
to  remove  the  prejudice  which  she  was  naturally  forming 
against  him.  Mrs.  Arnot  said,  with  her  mellow  laugh, 
that  often  accomplished  more  than  long  homilies  : 

"That  is  a  manly  speech,  Egbert,  and  much  to  your 
credit.     '  Honest  confession  is  good  for  the  soul.'  " 

Haldane  did  not  get  on  his  stilts  again  that  evening, 
and  before  it  was  over  he  concluded  that  Miss  Romeyn 
was  the  most  charming  young  lady  he  had  ever  met, 
though,  for  some  reason,  she  still  permitted  him  to  do 
nearly  all  the  talking.  She  bade  him  good  night,  how- 
ever, with  a  smile  that  was  not  unkindly,  and  which  was 
interpreted  by  him  as  being  singularly  gracious. 

By  this  time  he  had  concluded  that  Miss  Romeyn  was 
a  "  young  \2idy  par  exceHence  ;  "  but  it  has  already  been 
shown  that  his  judgment  in  most  matters  was  not  to  be 
trusted.  Whether  she  was  a  school-girl  or  a  fully  fledged 
young  lady,  a  child  or  a  woman,  might  have  kept  a 
closer  observer  than  himself  much  longer  in  doubt.  In 
truth,  she  was  scarcely  the  one  or  the  other,  and  had 
many  of  the  characteristics  of  both.      His  opinion  of  her 


IMMATURE,  33 

was  as  incorrect  as  that  of  himself.  He  was  not  a  man, 
though  he  considered  himself  a  superior  one,  and  had 
attained  to  manly  proportions. 

But  there  were  wide  differences  in  their  immaturity. 
She  was  forming  under  the  guidance  of  a  mother  who 
blended  firmness  and  judgment  equally  with  love.  Gen- 
tle blood  was  in  her  veins,  and  she  had  inherited  many 
of  her  mother's  traits  with  her  beauty.  Her  parents, 
however,  believed  that,  even  as  the  garden  of  Eden 
needed  to  be  "  dressed  and  kept,"  so  the  nature  of  their 
child  required  careful  pruning,  with  repression  here  and 
development  there.  While  the  young  girl  was  far  from 
being  faultless,  fine  traits  and  tendencies  dominated,  and, 
though  as  yet  undeveloped,  they  were  unfolding  with  the 
naturalness  and  beauty  of  a  budding  flower. 

In  Haldane's  case  evil  traits  were  in  the  ascendant, 
and  the  best  hope  for  him  was  that  they  as  yet  had  not 
become  confirmed. 

"  Who  is  this  Mr.  Haldane,  auntie?  "  Laura  asked  on 
reaching  her  room.  There  was  a  slight  trace  of  vexation 
in  her  tone. 

"  He  is  the  son  of  an  old  friend  of  mine.  I  have  in- 
duced my  husband  to  try  to  give  him  a  business  educa- 
tion.    You  do  not  like  him." 

"  I  did  not  like  him  at  all  at  first,  but  he  improves  a 
little  on  acquaintance.  Is  he  a  fair  sample  of  your  young 
n\Qn  proteges  ?  " 

"  He  is  the  least  promising  of  any  of  them,"  replied 
Mrs.  Arnot,  sitting  down  before  the  fire.  Laura  saw  that 
her  face  had  become  shadowed  with  sadness  and  anxiety. 

"  You  look  troubled,  auntie.     Is  he  the  cause  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"Are  you  very  much  interested  in  him  ?" 

"  I  am,  Laura  ;  very  much,  indeed.  I  cannot  bear  to 
give  him  up,  and  yet  I  fear  I  must." 

"Is  he  a  very  interesting  '  case  ? '  "  asked  the  y^^Mig 


34     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

girl  in  some  surprise,  "  Mother  often  laughingly  calls 
the  young  men  you  are  trying  to  coax  to  be  good  by  your 
winning  ways,  '  cases.'  I  don't  know  much  about  young 
men,  but  should  suppose  that  you  had  many  under  treat- 
ment much  more  interesting  than  he  is." 

"Sister  Fanny  is  always  laughing  at  my  hobby,  and 
saying  that,  since  I  have  no  children  of  my  own,  I  try  to 
adopt  every  young  man  who  will  give  me  a  chance. 
Perhaps  if  I  try  to  carry  out  your  mother's  figure,  you 
will  understand  why  I  am  so  interested  in  this  '  case.'  If 
I  were  a  physician  and  had  charge  of  a  good  many  pa- 
tients, ought  I  not  to  be  chiefly  interested  in  those  who 
were  in  the  most  critical  and  dangerous  condition?  " 

"  It  would  be  just  like  you  to  be  so,  auntie,  and  I 
would  not  mind  being  quite  ill  myself  if  I  could  have 
you  to  take  care  of  me.  I  hope  the  young  men  whom 
you  '  adopt'  appreciate  their  privileges." 

"  The  trouble  with  most  of  us,  Laura,  is  that  we  become 
wise  too  late  in  life.  Young  people  are  often  their  own 
worst  enemies,  and  if  you  wish  to  do  them  good,  you 
must  do  it,  as  it  were,  on  the  sly.  If  one  tries  openly  to 
reform  and  guide  them — if  I  should  say  plainly.  Such 
and  such  are  your  faults  ;  such  and  such  places  and  as- 
sociations are  full  of  danger — they  would  be  angry  or 
disgusted,  or  they  would  say  I  was  blue  and  strait-laced, 
and  had  an  old  woman's  notions  of  what  a  man  should 
be.  I  must  coax  them,  as  you  say  ;  I  must  disguise  my 
medicines,  and  apply  my  remedies  almost  without  their 
knowing  it.  I  also  find  it  true  in  my  practice  that  tonics 
and  good  wholesome  diet  are  better  than  all  moral  drugs. 
It  seems  to  me  that  if  I  can  bring  around  these  giddy 
young  fellows  refining,  steadying,  purifying  influences,  I 
can  do  them  more  good  than  if  I  lectured  them.  The 
latter  is  the  easier  way,  and  many  take  it.  It  would  re- 
quire but  a  few  minutes  to  tell  this  young  Haldane  what 
his  wise  safe  course  must  be  if  he  would  avoid  shipwreck  ; 


IMMATURE.  35 

but  I  can  see  his  face  flush  and  hp  curl  at  my  homily. 
And  yet  for  weeks  I  have  been  angling  for  him,  and  I 
fear  to  no  purpose.  Your  uncle  may  discharge  him  any 
day.  It  makes  me  very  sad  to  say  it,  but  if  he  goes 
home  I  think  he  will  also  go  to  ruin.  Thank  God  for 
your  good,  wise  mother,  Laura.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  be 
started  right  in  life." 

"Then  this  young  man  has  been  started  wrong?' 

"  Yes,  wrong  indeed." 

"  Is  he  so  very  bad,  auntie  ? "  Laura  asked  with  a  face 
full  of  serious  concern. 

Mrs.  Arnot  smiled  as  she  said,  "  If  you  were  a  young 
society  chit,  you  might  think  him  '  very  nice,'  as  their 
slang  goes.  He  is  good-looking  and  rich,  and  his  incli- 
nation to  be  fast  would  be  a  piquant  fact  in  his  favor. 
He  has  done  things  which  would  seem  to  you  very  wrong 
indeed.  But  he  is  foolish  and  ill-trained  rather  than  bad. 
He  is  a  spoiled  boy,  and  spoiled  boys  are  apt  to  become 
spoiled  men.  I  have  told  you  all  this  partly  because, 
having  been  your' mother's  companion  all  your  hfe,  you 
are  so  old-fashioned  that  I  can  talk  to  you  almost  as  I 
would  to  sister  Fanny,  and  partly  because  I  like  to  talk 
about  my  hobby." 

A  young  girl  naturally  has  quick  sympathies,  and  all 
the  influences  of  Laura's  hfe  had  been  gentle  and 
humane.  Her  aunt's  words  speedily  led  her  to  regard 
Haldane  as  an  «•  interesting  case,"  a  sort  of  fever  patient 
who  was  approaching  the  crisis  of  his  disease.  Curling 
down  on  the  floor,  and  leaning  her  arms  on  her  aunt's  lap, 
she  looked  up  with  a  face  full  of  solicitude  as  she  asked  : 

"And  don't  you  think  you  can  save  him?  Please 
don't  give  up  trying." 

"  I  like  the  expression  of  your  face  now,"  said  Mrs. 
Arnot,  stroking  the  abundant  tresses,  that  were  falling 
loosely  fiom  the  girl's  head,  "  for  in  it  I  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  divine  ii'^^eje.     Many  think  of  God  as  looking 


36     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

down  angrily  and  frowningly  upon  the  foolish  and  way- 
ward ;  but  I  see  in  the  solicitude  of  your  face  a  faint  re- 
flection of  the  '  Not  willing  that  any  should  perish  '  which 
it  ever  seems  to  me  is  the  expression  of  His." 

"  Laura,"  said  she  abruptly,  after  a  moment,  "  did  any 
one  ever  tell  you  that  you  were  growing  up  very  pretty  ?  " 

"  No,  auntie,"  said  the  girl,  blushing  and  laughing. 

"  Mr.  Haldane  told  you  so  this  evening." 

"  O  auntie,  you  are  mistaken  ;  he  could  not  have  been 
so  rude." 

"He  did  not  make  a  set  speech  to  that  effect,  my 
dear,  but  he  told  you  so  by  his  eyes  and  manner,  only 
you  are  such  an  innocent  home  child  that  you  did  not 
notice.  But  when  you  go  into  society  you  will  be  told 
this  fact  so  often  that  you  will  be  compelled  to  heed  it, 
and  will  soon  learn  the  whole  language  of  flattery ^ 
spoken  and  unspoken.  Perhaps  I  had  better  forewarn 
you  a  little,  and  so  forearm  you.  What  are  you  going  to 
do  with  your  beauty  ?  " 

"Why,  auntie,  how  funny  you  talk!  Wliat  should  I 
do  with  it,  granting  that  it  has  any  existence  save  in  your 
fond  eyes?  " 

••  Suppose  you  use  it  to  make  men  better,  instead  of  to 
make  them  merely  admire  you.  One  can't  be  a  belle 
very  long  at  best,  and  of  all  the  querulous,  discontented, 
and  disagreeable  people  that  I  have  met,  superannuated 
belles,  who  could  no  longer  obtain  their  revenue  of  flat- 
tery, were  the  worst.  They  were  impoverished,  indeed. 
If  you  do  as  I  suggest,  you  will  have  much  that  is  pleasant 
to  think  about  when  you  come  to  be  as  old  as  I  am.  Per- 
haps you  can  do  more  for  young  Haldane  than  I  can." 

"  Now,  auntie,  what  can  I  do  ?  " 

"That  which  nearly  all  women  can  do  :  be  kind  and 
winning;  make  our  safe,  cozy  parlor  so  attractive  that  he 
will  not  go  out  evenings  to  places  which  tend  to  destroy 
him.     You  feel  an  interest  in  him  ;  show  it.     Ask  him 


nniA  TUBE.  37 

about  his  business,  and  get  him  to  explain  it  to  you. 
Suggest  that  if  you  were  a  man  you  would  like  to  master 
your  work,  and  become  eminent  in  it.  Show  by  your 
manner  and  by  words,  if  occasion  offers,  that  you  love 
and  revere  all  that  is  sacred,  pure,  and  Christian. 
Laura,  innocent  dove  as  you  are,  you  know  that  many 
women  beguile  men  to  ruin  with  smiles.  Men  can  be 
beguiled  from  ruin  with  smiles.  Indeed,  I  think  multi- 
tudes are  permitted  to  go  to  destruction  because  women 
are  so  unattractive,  so  absorbed  in  themselves  and  their 
nerves.  If  mothers  and  wives,  maidens  and  old  maids, 
would  all  commence  playing  the  agreeable  to  the  men  of 
their  household  and  circle,  not  for  the  sake  of  a  few  com- 
pliments, but  for  the  purpose  of  luring  them  from  evil  and 
making  them  better,  the  world  would  improve  at  once." 

"  I  see,  auntie,"  said  Laura,  laughing  ;  "you  wish  to 
administer  me  as  a  sugar-coated  pill  to  your  '  difficult 
case.'  " 

A  deep  sigh  was  the  only  answer,  and,  looking  up,  Laura 
saw  that  her  words  had  not  been  heeded.  Tears  were  in 
her  aunt's  eyes,  and  after  a  moment  she  said  brokenly  : 

'•  My  theories  seem  true  enough,  and  yet  how  signally 
I  have  failed  in  carrying  them  out !  Perhaps  it  is  my 
fault ;  perhaps  it  is  my  fault  ;  but  I've  tried — oh  !  how  I 
have  tried  !  Laura,  dear,  you  know  that  I  am  a  lonely 
woman  ;  but  do  not  let  this  prejudice  you  against  what  I 
have  said.  Good  night,  dear  ;  I  have  kept  you  up  too 
long  after  your  journey." 

Her  niece  understood  her  allusion  to  the  cold,  unlov- 
ing man  who  sat  alone  every  evening  in  his  dim  library, 
thinking  rarely  of  his  wife,  but  often  of  her  wealth,  and 
how  it  might  increase  his  leverage  in  his  herculean 
labors.  The  young  girl  had  the  tact  to  reply  only  by  a 
warm,  lingering  embrace.  It  was  an  old  sorrow,  of 
which  she  had  long  been  aware  ;  but  it  seemed  without 
remedy,  and  was  rarely  touched  upon. 


CHAPTER  V. 
passion's  clamor. 

Laura  had  a  strong  affection  for  her  aunt,  and  would 
naturally  be  inclined  to  gratify  any  wishes  that  she  might 
express,  even  had  they  involved  tasks  uncongenial  and 
unattractive.  But  the  proposal  that  she  should  become 
an  ally  in  the  effort  to  lure  young  Haldane  from  his  evil 
associations,  and  awaken  within  him  pure  and  refined 
tastes,  was  decidedly  attractive.  She  was  peculiarly 
romantic  in  her  disposition,  and  no  rude  contact  with 
the  commonplace,  common-sense  world  had  chastened 
her  innocent  fancies  by  harsh  and  disagreeable  experi- 
ence. Her  Christian  training  and  girlish  simplicity  lifted 
her  above  the  ordinary  romanticism  of  imagining  herself 
the  heroine  in  every  instance,  and  the  object  and  end  of 
all  masculine  aspirations.  On  this  occasion  she  simply 
desired  to  act  the  part  of  a  humble  assistant  of  Mrs. 
Arnot,  whom  she  regarded  as  Haldane's  good  angel ; 
and  she  was  quite  as  disinterested  in  her  hope  for  the 
young  man's  moral  improvement  as  her  aunt  herself. 

The  task,  moreover,  was  doubly  pleasing  since  she 
could  perform  it  in  a  way  that  was  so  womanly  and 
agreeable.  She  could  scarcely  have  given  Haldane  a 
plain  talk  on  the  evils  of  fast  living  to  save  her  life,  but  if 
she  could  keep  young  men  from  going  to  destruction  by 
smiling  upon  them,  by  games  of  backgammon  and  by 
music,  she  felt  in  the  mood  to  be  a  missionary  all  her 
life,  especially  if  she  could  have  so  safe  and  attractive  a 
field  of  labor  as  her  aunt's  back  parlor. 

But   the   poor  child  would  soon  learn  that  perverse 

S8 


PASSION'S  CLA3I0B.  39 

human  nature  is  much  the  same  in  a  drawing-room  and 
a  tenement-house,  and  that  all  who  seek  to  improve  it 
are  doomed  to  meet  much  that  is  excessively  annoying 
and  discouraging. 

The  simple-hearted  girl  no  more  foresaw  what  might 
result  from  her  smiles  than  an  ignorant  child  would  an- 
ticipate the  consequences  of  fire  falling  on  grains  of 
harmless-looking  black  sand.  She  had  never  seen  pas- 
sion kindhng  and  flaming  till  it  seemed  like  a  scorching 
fire,  and  had  not  learned  by  experience  that  in  some 
circumstances  her  smiles  might  be  hke  incendiary  sparks 
to  powder. 

In  seeking  to  manage  her  "  difficult  case,"  Mrs.  Arnot 
should  have  foreseen  the  danger  of  employing  such  a 
fascinating  young  creature  as  her  assistant  ;  but  in  these 
matters  the  wisest  often  err,  and  only  comprehend  the 
evil  after  it  has  occurred.  Laura  was  but  a  child  in 
years,  having  passed  her  fifteenth  birthday  only  a  few 
months  previous,  and  Haldane  seemed  to  the  lady 
scarcely  more  than  a  boy.  She  did  not  intend  that  her 
niece  should  manifest  any  thing  more  than  a  little  win- 
ning kindness  and  interest,  barely  enough  to  keep  the 
young  fellow  from  spending  his  evenings  out  she  knew 
not  where.  He  was  at  just  the  age  when  the  glitter  and 
tinsel  of  public  amusements  are  most  attractive.  She 
believed  that  if  she  could  familiarize  his  mind  with  the 
real  gold  and  clear  diamond  flash  of  pure  home  pleasures, 
and  those  which  are  enjoyed  in  good  society,  he  would 
eventually  become  disgusted  with  gilt,  varnish,  and  paste. 
If  Laura  had  been  a  very  plain  girl,  she  might  have 
seconded  Mrs.  Arnot's  efforts  to  the  utmost  without  any 
unpleasant  results,  even  if  no  good  ones  had  followed; 
and  it  may  w^ell  be  doubted  whether  any  of  the  latter 
would  have  ensued.  Haldane's  disease  was  too  deeply 
rooted,  and  his  tastes  vitiated  to  such  a  degree  that  he 
had  lost  the  power  to  relish  long  the  simple  enjoyments 


40     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

of  Mrs.  Arnot's  parlor.  He  already  craved  the  pleasures 
which  first  kindle  and  excite  and  then  consume. 

Laura,  however,  was  not  plain  and  ordinary,  and  the 
smiles  which  were  intended  as  innocent  lures  from  snares, 
instead  of  into  them,  might  make  trouble  for  all  concerned. 
Haldane  was  naturally  combustible,  to  begin  with,  and 
was  now  at  the  most  inflammable  period  of  his  life. 

The  profoundest  master  of  human  nature  portrayed  to 
the  world  a  Romeo  and  a  Juliet,  both  mastered  by  a 
passion  which  but  a  few  words  and  glances  had  kindled. 
There  are  many  Romeos  who  do  not  find  their  Juliets  so 
sympathetic  and  responsive,  and  they  usually  develop  at 
about  the  age  of  Haldane.  Indeed,  nearly  all  young 
men  of  sanguine  temperaments  go  through  the  Romeo 
stage,  and  they  are  fortunate  if  they  pass  it  without  doing 
any  thing  especially  ridiculous  or  disastrous.  These 
sudden  attacks  are  exceedingly  absurd  to  older  and  cooler 
friends,  but  to  the  victims  themselves  they  are  tremen- 
dously real  and  tragic  for  the  time  being.  More  hearts 
are  broken  into  indefinite  fragments  before  twenty  than 
ever  after ;  but,  hke  the  broken  bones  of  the  young, 
they  usually  knit  readily  together  again,  and  are  just  as 
good  for  all  practical  purposes. 

There  was  nothing  unusual  in  the  fact,  therefore,  that 
Haldane  was  soon  deeply  enamored  with  his  new  ac- 
quaintance. It  was  true  that  Laura  had  given  him  the 
mildest  and  most  innocent  kind  of  encouragement — and 
the  result  would  probably  have  been  the  same  if  she  had 
given  him  none  at  all — but  his  vanity,  and  what  he  chose 
to  regard  as  his  "  undying  love,"  interpreted  all  her  ac- 
tions, and  gave  volumes  of  meaning  to  a  kindly  glance 
or  a  pleasant  word.  Indeed,  before  there  had  been  time 
to  carry  out,  to  any  extent,  the  tactics  her  aunt  had  pro- 
posed, symptoms  of  his  malady  appeared.  While  she 
was  regarding  him  merely  as  one  of  her  aunt's  "  cases," 
and   a  very   hard  one  at  best,  and  thought  of  herself  as 


PASSION'S  CLAMOR.  41 

trying  to  help  a  little,  as  a  child  might  hold  a  bandage 
or  a  medicine  phial  for  experienced  hands,  he,  on  the 
contrary,  had  begun  to  mutter  to  himself  that  she  was 
"  the  divinest  woman  God  ever  fashioned." 

There  was  now  no  trouble  about  his  spending  evenings 
elsewhere,  and  the  maiden  was  perplexed  and  annoyed 
at  finding  her  winning  ways  far  too  successful,  and  that 
the  one  she  barely  hoped  to  keep  from  the  vague — and  to 
her  mind,  horrible — places  of  temptation,  was  becoming 
as  adhesive  as  sticking-plaster.  If  she  smiled,  he  smiled 
and  ogled  far  too  much  in  return.  If  she  chatted  with 
one  and  another  of  the  young  men  who  found  Mrs.  Ar- 
not's  parlor  the  most  attractive  place  open  to  them  in  the 
town,  he  would  assume  a  manner  designed  to  be  darkly 
tragical,  but  which  to  the  young  girl  had  more  the  ap- 
pearance of  sulking. 

She  was  not  so  much  of  a  child  as  to  be  unable  ta 
comprehend  Haldane's  symptoms,  and  she  was  suffi- 
ciently a  woman  not  to  be  excessively  angry.  And  yet 
she  was  greatly  annoyed  and  perplexed.  At  times  his 
action  seemed  so  absurd  that  she  was  glad  to  escape  to 
her  room,  that  she  might  give  way  to  her  merriment  ; 
and  again  he  would  appear  so  much  in  earnest  that  she 
was  quite  as  inclined  to  cry  and  to  think  seriously  of 
bringing  her  visit  to  an  abrupt  termination. 

While  under  Mrs.  Arnot's  eye  Haldane  was  distant 
and  circumspect,  but  the  moment  he  was  alone  with 
Laura  his  manner  became  unmistakably  demonstrative. 

At  first  she  was  disposed  to  tell  her  aunt  all  about  the 
young  man's  sentimental  manner,  but  the  fact  that  it 
seemed  so  ridiculous  deterred  her.  She  still  regarded 
herself  as  a  child,  and  that  any  one  should  be  seriously 
in  love  with  her  after  but  a  few  days'  acquaintance 
seemed  absurdity  itself.  Her  aunt  might  think  her  very 
vain  for  even  imagining  such  a  thing,  and,  perhaps,  after 
all  it  was  only  her  own  imagination. 


42     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Mr.  Haldane  has  acted  queerly  from  llie  first,"  she 
concluded,  "  and  the  best  thing  I  can  do  is  to  think  no 
more  about  him,  and  let  auntie  manage  her  '  difficult 
case  '  without  me.  If  I  am  to  help  in  these  matters,  I 
had  better  commence  with  a  '  case  '  that  is  not  so  '  diffi- 
cult.' " 

She  therefore  sought  to  avoid  the  young  man,  and 
prove  by  her  manner  that  she  was  utterly  indifferent  to 
him,  hoping  that  this  course  would  speedily  cure  him  of 
his  folly.  She  would  venture  into  the  parlor  only  when 
her  aunt  or  guests  were  there,  and  would  then  try  to 
make  herself  generally  agreeable,  without  an  apparent 
thought  for  him. 

While  she  assured  herself  that  she  did  not  like  him, 
and  that  he  was  in  no  respect  a  person  to  be  admired  and 
liked,  she  still  found  herself  thinking  about  him  quite 
often.  He  was  her  first  recognized  lover.  Indeed,  few 
had  found  opportunity  to  give  more  than  admiring  glances 
to  the  little  nun,  who  thus  far  had  been  secluded  almost 
continuously  in  the  safest  of  all  cloisters — a  country 
home.  It  was  a  decided  novelty  that  a  young  man,  al- 
most six  feet  in  height,  should  be  looking  unutterable 
things  in  her  direction  whenever  she  was  present.  She 
wished  he  wouldn't,  but  since  he  would,  she  could  not 
help  thinking  about  him,  and  how  she  could  manage  to 
make  him  '*  behave  sensibly." 

She  did  not  maintain  her  air  of  indifference  very  per- 
fectly, however,  for  she  had  never  been  schooled  by  ex- 
perience, and  was  acting  solely  on  the  intuitions  of  her 
sex.  She  could  not  forbear  giving  a  quick  glance  oc- 
casionally to  see  how  he  was  taking  his  lesson.  At  times 
he  was  scowling  and  angry,  and  then  she  could  maintain 
her  part  without  difficulty  ;  again  he  would  look  so  mis- 
erable that,  out  of  pity,  she  would  relent  into  a  half 
smile,  but  immediately  reproach  herself  for  being  "  so 
fooUsh." 


PASSION'S  CLAMOR.  43 

Haldane's  manner  soon  attracted  Mrs.  Arnot's  atten- 
tion, notwithstanding  his  effort  to  disguise  from  her  his 
feehng  ;  and  a  httle  observation  on  the  part  of  the  ex- 
perienced matron  enabled  her  to  guess  how  matters 
stood.  While  Mrs.  Arnot  was  perplexed  and  provoked 
by  this  new  complication  in  Haldane's  case,  she  was  toQ 
kindly  in  her  nature  not  to  feel  sorry  for  him.  She  was 
also  so  well  versed  in  human  nature  as  to  be  aware  that  she 
could  not  sit  down  and  coolly  talk  him  out  of  his  folly. 

Besides  it  was  not  necessarily  folly.  The  youth  was 
but  following  a  law  of  nature,  and  following  it,  too,  in 
much  the  same  manner  as  had  his  fathers  before  him 
since  the  beginning  of  time.  There  would  not  be  any 
thing  essentially  wrong  in  an  attachment  between  these 
young  people,  if  it  sprang  up  naturally  ;  only  it  would  be 
necessary  to  impress  upon  them  the  fact  that  they  were 
yoiaigy  and  that  for  years  to  come  their  minds  should  be 
largely  occupied  with  other  matters.  Haldane  certainly 
would  not  have  been  her  choice  for  Laura,  but  if  a  strong 
attachment  became  the  means  of  steadying  him  and  of 
inciting  to  the  formation  of  a  fine  character,  all  might  be 
well  in  the  end.  She  was  morbidly  anxious,  however, 
that  her  niece  should  not  meet  with  any  such  disappoint- 
ment in  life  as  had  fallen  to  her  lot,  and  should  the  cur- 
rent of  the  young  girl's  affection  tend  steadily  in  his 
direcdon  she  would  deeply  regret  the  fact. 

She  would  regret  exceedingly,  also,  to  have  the  young 
girl's  mind  occupied  by  thoughts  of  such  a  nature  for 
years  to  come.  Her  education  was  unfinished  ;  she  was 
very  immature,  and  should  not  make  so  important  a 
choice  until  she  had  seen  much  more  of  society,  and  time 
had  been  given  for  the  formation  of  her  tastes  and 
character. 

Mrs.  Arnot  soon  concluded  that  it  would  be  wiser  to 
prevent  trouble  than  to  remedy  it,  and  that  Laura  had 
better   return    speedily  to   the    safe    asylum  of  her  own 


44     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEEN TH  CENTURY. 

home.  She  could  tlien  suggest  to  Haldane  that  if  he 
hoped  to  win  the  maiden  in  after  years  he  must  form  a 
character  worthy  of  her. 

Had  she  carried  out  her  plan  that  day  all  might  have 
turned  out  differently,  but  the  advanced  in  life  are  prone 
to  forget  the  impetuosity  of  youth.  Haldane  was  already 
ripe  for  a  declaration,  or,  more  properly,  an  explosion  of 
his  pent-up  feelings,  and  was  only  awaiting  an  opportu- 
nity to  insist  upon  his  own  acceptance.  He  was  so  pos- 
sessed and  absorbed  by  his  emotions  that  he  felt  sure 
they  would  sweep  away  all  obstacles.  He  imagined 
himself  pleading  his  cause  in  a  way  that  would  melt  a 
marble  heart  ;  and  both  vanity  and  hope  had  whispered 
that  Laura  was  a  shy  maiden,  secretly  responsive  to  his 
passion,  and  only  awaiting  his  frank  avowal  before  show- 
ing her  own  heart.  Else  why  had  she  been  so  kind  at 
first?  Having  won  his  love,  was  she  not  seeking  now  to 
goad  him  on  to  its  utterance  by  a  sudden  change  of 
manner  ? 

Thus  he  reasoned,  as  have  many  others  equally  bhnd. 

On  becoming  aware  of  Haldane' s  passion,  Mrs.  Arnot 
resolved  to  sedulously  guard  her  niece,  and  prevent  any 
premature  and  disagreeable  scenes.  She  was  not  long 
in  discovering  that  the  feeling,  as  yet,  was  all  on  the 
young  man's  side,  and  believed  that  by  a  little  adroitness 
she  could  manage  the  affair  so  that  no  harm  would  result 
to  either  party. 

But  on  the  day  following  the  one  during  which  she  had 
arrived  at  the  above  conclusions  she  felt  quite  indisposed, 
and  while  at  dinner  was  obliged  to  succumb  to  one  of  her 
nervous  headaches.  Before  retiring  to  her  priva^*"  room 
she  directed  the  waitress  to  say  to  such  of  her  >  oung 
friends  as  might  call  that  she  was  too  ill  to  see  them. 

Haldane's  expressions  of  sympathy  were  hollow,  in- 
deed, for  he  hoped  that,  as  a  result  of  her  indisposition, 
he  would  have  Laura  all  to  himself  that  evening.     With 


FASSIOX'S  CLAMOR.  45 

an  insinuating  smile  he  said  to  the  young  girl,  after  her 
aunt  had  left  the  table, 

"  I  shall  expect  you  to  be  very  agreeable  this  evening, 
to  compensate  me  for  Mrs.  Arnot's  absence." 

Laura  blushed  vividly,  and  was  provoked  with  herself 
that  she  did  so,  but  she  replied  quietly, 

"You  must  excuse  me  this  evening,  Mr.  Haldane  ; 
I  am  sure  my  aunt  will  need  me." 

His  smile  was  succeeded  by  a  sudden  frown  ;  but,  as 
Mr.  Arnot  was  at  the  table,  he  said,  with  assumed  care- 
lessness, 

"Then  I  will  go  out  and  try  to  find  amusement  else- 
where." 

"It  might  be  well,  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Arnot  au- 
sterely, "  to  seek  for  something  else  than  amusement. 
When  I  was  at  your  age  I  so  invested  my  evenings  that 
they  now  tell  in  my  business." 

"  I  am  willing  to  invest  this  evening  in  a  way  to  make 
it  tell  upon  my  future,"  replied  Haldane,  with  a  mean- 
ing glance  at  Laura. 

Mr.  Arnot  observed  this  glance  and  the  blushing  face 
of  his  niece,  and  drew  his  own  conclusions  ;  but  he  only 
said  dryly, 

"  That  remark  is  about  as  inexphcable  as  some  of  your 
performances  at  the  office  of  late." 

Laura  soon  after  excused  herself  and  sought  a  refuge 
in  her  aunt's  room,  which,  being  darkened,  prevented 
the  lady  from  seeing  her  burning  cheeks  and  general  air 
of  vexation  and  disquiet.  Were  it  not  for  Mrs.  Arnot's 
suffering  condition  and  need  of  rest,  Laura  would  then 
have  told  her  of  her  trouble  and  asked  permission  to  re- 
turn home,  and  she  determined  to  do  this  at  the  first  op- 
portunity. Now,  however,  she  unselfishly  forgot  herself 
in  her  effort  to  alleviate  her  aunt's  distress.  With  a 
strong  sense  of  relief  she  heard  Haldane  go  out,  slam- 
ming the  front  door  after  him. 


46     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"Was  there  ever  such  an  absurd  fellow!"  thought 
she  ;  "  he  has  made  himself  disagreeable  ever  since  I 
came,  with  his  superior  airs,  as  if  he  knew  every  thing, 
when,  in  fact,  he  doesn't  know  any  thing  well,  not  even 
good  manners.  He  acts  as  if  I  belonged  to  him  and  had 
no  right  to  any  will  or  wishes  of  my  own.  If  he  can't 
take  the  hints  that  I  have  given  he  must  be  as  stupid  and 
blind  as  an  owl.  In  spite  of  all  that  I  can  do  or  say  he 
seems  to  think  that  I  only  want  an  opportunity  to  show 
the  same  ridiculous  feeling  that  makes  him  appear  like  a 
simpleton.  If  I  were  a  young  lady  in  society  I  should 
detest  a  man  who  took  it  for  granted  that  I  would  fall  in 
love  with  him." 

With  hke  indignant  musings  she  beguiled  the  time, 
wondering  occasionally  why  her  aunt  did  not  ask  her  to 
go  down  and  entertain  the  object  of  her  dread,  but 
secretly  thankful  that  she  did  not. 

At  last  Mrs.  Arnot  said  : 

"  Mr.  Haldane  went  out,  did  he  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  auntie,  some  time  ago." 

"  I  left  my  other  bottle  of  smelling-salts  in  the  parlor. 
I  think  it  is  stronger  than  this.  Would  you  mind  getting 
it  for  me  ?     It's  on  the  mantel." 

Laura  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  it  in  the  somewhat 
dimly-lighted  drawing-room,  but  as  she  turned  to  leave 
the  apartment  she  saw  Haldane  between  her  and  the 
door. 

Before  he  had  reached  any  of  his  garish  haunts  he  had 
felt  such  an  utter  distaste  for  them  in  his  present  mood 
that  he  returned.  He  was  conscious  of  the  impulse 
merely  to  be  near  the  object  of  his  thoughts,  and  also 
hoped  that  by  some  fortunate  chance  he  might  still  be 
able  to  find  her  alone.  That  his  return  might  be  un- 
noted, he  had  quietly  entered  a  side  door,  and  was  wait- 
ing and  watching  for  just  such  an  opportunity  as  Mrs. 
Arnot  had  unwittingly  occasioned. 


PASSION'S  CLA3I0R.  47 

Laura  tried  to  brush  past,  but  he  intercepted  her,  and 
said  : 

"  No,  Miss  Laura,  not  till  you  hear  me.  You  have 
my  destiny  in  your  hands." 

"I  haven't  any  thing  of  the  kind,"  she  answered,  in 
tones  of  strong  vexation.  Guided  by  instinct,  she  re- 
solved to  be  as  prosaic  and  matter-of-fact  as  possible  ;  so 
she  added:  "I  have  only  aunt's  smelling-salts  in  my 
hands,  and  she  needs  them." 

"  I  liQed  you  far  more  than  Mrs.  Arnot  needs  her  smell- 
ing-salts," he  said  tragically. 

"  Mr.  Haldane,  such  talk  is  very  absurd,"  she  replied, 
half  ready  to  cry  from  nervousness  and  annoyance. 

"  It  is  not  absurd.  How  can  you  trifle  with  the  deep- 
est and  holiest  feelings  that  a  man — of  which  a  man — 
feels?  "  he  retorted  passionately,  and  growing  a  little  in- 
coherent. 

"I  don't  know  any  thing  about  such  feelings,  and 
therefore  cannot  trifle  with  them." 

"What  did  your  blushes  mean  this  evening?  You 
cannot  deceive  me  ;  I  have  seen  the  world  and  know  it." 

"  I  am  not  the  world.  I  am  only  a  school-girl,  and  if 
you  had  good  sense  you  would  not  talk  so  to  me.  You 
appear  to  think  that  I  must  feel  and  do  as  you  wish. 
What  right  have  you  to  act  so  ?  " 

"The  truest  and  strongest  right.  You  know  well  that 
I  love  you  with  my  whole  soul.  I  have  given  you  my 
heart — all  there  is  of  me.  Have  I  not  a  right  to  ask 
your  love  in  return  ?  " 

Laura  was  conscious  of  a  strange  thrill  as  she  heard 
these  passionate  words,  for  they  appeared  to  echo  in  a 
depth  of  her  nature  of  which  she  had  not  been  con- 
scious before. 

The  strong  and  undoubting  assurance  which  possessed 
him  carried  for  a  moment  a  strange  mastery  over  her 
mind.     As  he   so  vehemently   asserted    the    only   claim 


48     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

which  a  man  can  urge,  her  woman's  soul  trembled,  and 
for  a  moment  she  felt  almost  powerless  to  resist.  His 
unreserved  giving  appeared  to  require  that  he  should  re- 
ceive also.  She  would  have  soon  realized,  however, 
that  Haldane's  attitude  was  essentially  that  of  an  Ori- 
ental lover,  who,  in  his  strongest  attachments,  is  ever 
prone  to  maintain  the  imperative  mood,  and  to  consult 
his  own  heart  rather  than  that  of  the  woman  he  loves. 
While  in  Laura's  nature,  there  was  unusual  gentleness 
and  a  tendency  to  respect  and  admire  virile  force,  she 
was  too  highly  bred  in  our  Western  civilization  not  to  re- 
sent as  an  insult  any  such  manifestation  of  this  force  as 
would  make  the  quest  of  her  love  a  demand  rather  than 
a  suit,  after  once  recognizing  such  a  spirit.  She  was 
now  confused  however,  and  after  an  awkward  moment 
said, 

"  I  have  not  asked  or  wished  you  to  give  me  so  much. 
I  don't  think  you  reahze  what  you  are  saying.  If  you 
would  only  remember  that  I  am  scarcely  more  than  a 
child  you  would  not  talk  so  foohshly.  Please  let  me  go 
to  my  aunt." 

"  No,  not  till  you  give  me  some  hope.  Your  blushes 
prove  that  you  are  a  woman." 

"They  prove  that  I  am  excessively  annoyed  and 
vexed," 

"  O,  Laura,  after  raising  so  many  hopes  you  cannot — 
you  cannot — " 

"  I  haven't  meant  to  raise  any  hopes." 

"  Why  were  you  so  kind  to  me  at  first  ? " 

"Well,  if  you  must  know,  my  aunt  wished  me  to  be. 
If  I  had  dreamed  you  would  act  so  I  would  not  have 
spoken  to  you." 

"  What  motive  could  Mrs.  Arnot  have  had  for  such  a 
request?" 

"  I  will  tell  you,  and  when  you  know  the  whole  truth 
you  will  see  how  mistaken  you  are,  and  how  greatly  you 


PASSION'S  CLAMOR.  49 

wrong  me.  Aunt  wanted  me  to  help  her  keep  you  home 
€venings,  and  away  from  all  sorts  of  horrid  places  to 
which  you  were  fond  of  going." 

These  words  gave  Haldane  a  cue  which  he  at  once 
followed,  and  he  said  eagerly  : 

"  If  you  will  be  my  wife,  I  will  do  any  thing  you  wish. 
I  will  make  myself  good,  great,  and  renowned  for  your 
sake.  Your  smiles  will  keep  me  from  every  temptation. 
But  I  warn  you  that  if  you  cast  me  off — if  you  trifle  with 
me — I  shall  become  a  reckless  man.  I  shall  be  ruined. 
My  only  impulse  will  be  self-destruction." 

Laura  was  now  thoroughly  incensed,  and  she  said 
indignantly  : 

"  Mr.  Haldane,  I  should  think  you  would  be  ashamed 
to  talk  in  that  manner.  It's  the  same  as  if  a  spoiled  boy 
should  say  :  If  you  don't  give  me  what  I  wish,  right  or 
wrong,  I  will  do  something  dreadful.  If  I  ever  do  love 
a  man,  it  will  be  one  that  I  can  look  up  to  and  respect, 
and  not  one  who  must  be  coaxed  and  bribed  to  give  up 
■disgusting  vices.  If  you  do  not  open  that  door  I  will  call 
uncle." 

The  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Arnot  entered  with  a  heavy 
frown  upon  his  brow. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"GLOOMY    GRANDEUR." 

Mr.  Arnot's  library  was  on  the  side  of  the  hall  oppo- 
site to  the  drawing-room.  Though  he  had  been  deeply- 
intent  upon  his  writing,  he  at  last  became  conscious  that 
there  were  some  persons  in  the  parlor  who  were  talking 
in  an  unusual  manner,  and  he  soon  distinguished  the 
voice  of  his  niece.  Haldane's  words,  manner,  and 
glances  at  the  dinner  table  at  once  recurred  to  him,  and 
stepping  silently  to  the  drawing-room  door,  he  heard  the 
latter  part  of  the  colloquy  narrated  in  the  previous  chap- 
ter. He  was  both  amused  and  angry,  and  while  relieved 
to  find  that  his  niece  was  indulging  in  no  "  sentimental 
nonsense,"  he  had  not  a  particle  of  sympathy  or  charity 
for  Haldane,  and  he  determined  to  give  the  young  mar» 
a  "lesson  that  would  not  soon  be  forgotten." 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ridiculous  scene?"  he 
demanded  sternly.  "What  have  you  been  saying  to 
this  child?" 

Haldane  at  first  had  been  much  abashed  by  the  en- 
trance of  his  employer  ;  but  his  tone  and  manner  stung 
the  young  fellow  into  instant  anger,  and  he  replied 
haughtily  : 

"She  is  not  a  child,  and  what  I  have  said  concerns 
Miss  Romeyn  only." 

"Ah  !  indeed  !  I  have  no  right  to  protect  my  niece  in 
my  own  house  !  " 

"  My  intentions  toward  Miss  Romeyn  are  entirely  hon- 
orable, and  there  is  no  occasion  for  protection." 

Reassured  by  h^r  uncle's  presence,  Laura's  nervous 
60 


''GL003IY  GRANDEUR.''  51 

apprehension  began  to  give  place  to  something  like  pity 
for  the  youth,  who  had  assumed  an  attitude  befitting 
high  tragedy,  and  toward  whom  she  felt  that  she  had 
been  a  little  harsh.  Now  that  he  was  confronted  by  one 
who  was  disposed  to  be  still  more  harsh,  womanlike,  she 
was  inclined  to  take  his  part.  She  would  be  sorry  to 
have  him  come  to  an  open  rupture  with  his  employer  on 
her  account,  so  she  said  eagerly, 

"  Please,  uncle,  do  me  the  favor  of  letdng  the  whole 
matter  drop.  Mr.  Haldane  has  seen  his  mistake  by  this 
time.  I  am  going  home  to-morrow,  and  the  affair  is  too 
absurd  to  make  any  one  any  more  trouble." 

Before  he  could  answer,  Mrs.  Arnot,  hearing  their 
voices,  and  surmising  the  trouble  which  she  had  hoped 
to  prevent,  now  appeared  also,  and  by  her  good  sense 
and  tact  brought  the  disagreeable  scene  to  a  speedy  close. 

"Laura,  my  dear,"  she  said  quietly,  "go  up  to  my 
room,  and  I  will  join  you  there  soon."  The  young  girl 
gladly  obeyed. 

There  were  times  when  Mrs.  Arnot  controlled  her 
strong-willed  husband  in  a  manner  that  seemed  scarcely 
to  be  reconciled  with  his  dictatorial  habits.  This  fact 
might  be  explained  in  part  by  her  wealth,  of  which  he 
had  the  use,  but  which  she  still  controlled,  but  more  truly 
by  her  innate  superiority,  which  ever  gives  supremacy  to 
the  nobler  and  stronger  mind  when  aroused. 

Mr.  Arnot  had  become  suddenly  and  vindictively 
angry  with  his  clerk,  who,  instead  of  being  overwhelmed 
with  awe  and  shame  at  his  unexpected  appearance,  was 
haughty  and  even  defiant.  One  of  the  strongest  im- 
pulses of  this  man  was  to  crush  out  of  those  in  his  employ 
3.  spirit  of  independence  and  individual  self-assertion. 
The  idea  of  a  part  of  his  business  machinery  making 
such  a  jarring  tumult  in  his  own  house  !  He  proposed 
to  instantly  cast  away  the  cause  of  friction,  and  insert  a 
more  stolid  human  cog-wheel  in  Haldane's  place. 


52     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

But  when  his  wife  said,  in  a  tone  which  she  rarely 
used, 

"  Mr.  Arnot,  before  any  thing  further  is  said  upon  this 
matter,  I  would  like  to  see  you  in  your  library  " — he  fol- 
lowed her  without  a  word. 

Before  the  library  door  closed,  however,  he  could  not 
forbear  snarling, 

"  I  told  you  that  your  having  this  big  spoiled  boy  as 
an  inmate  of  the  house  would  not  work  well." 

"  He  has  been  offering  himself  to  Laura,  has  he  not?  " 
she  said  quietly. 

"  I  suppose  that  is  the  way  in  which  you  would  ex- 
plain his  absurd,  maudhn  w  ords.  A  pitiful  offer  it  was, 
which  she,  hke  a  sensible  girl,  declined  without  thanks." 

"What  course  do  you  propose  to  take  toward  Hal- 
dane? " 

"  I  was  on  the  point  of  sending  him  home  to  his  mother^ 
and  of  suggesting  that  he  remain  with  her  till  he  becomes 
something  more  than  a  fast,  foolish  boy.  As  yet  I  see  no 
reason  for  acting  differently." 

"  On  just  what  grounds  do  you  propose  to  discharge 
him  ?  " 

"  Has  he  not  given  sufficient  cause  this  evening  in  his 
persecution  of  Laura  and  his  impudence  to  me  ?  " 

"  Thomas,  you  forget  that  while  young  Haldane  is 
your  clerk,  he  enjoys  a  social  position  quite  equal  to  that 
which  a  son  of  ours  would  possess,  did  we  have  one. 
Though  his  course  toward  Laura  has  been  crude  and 
boyish,  I  have  yet  to  learn  that  there  has  been  any  thing 
dishonorable.  Laura  is  to  us  a  child  ;  to  him  she  seems 
a  very  pretty  and  attractive  girl,  and  his  sudden  passion 
for  her  is,  perhaps,  one  of  the  most  natural  things  in  the 
world.  Besides,  an  affair  of  this  kind  should  be  managed 
quietly  and  wisely,  and  not  with  answering  passion.  You 
are  angry  now  ;  you  will  see  that  I  am  right  in  the  morn- 
ing.    At  all  events,  the  name  of  this  innocent  girl,  my 


''GLOOMY  GRANDEUR.''  53 

sister's  child,  must  not  be  bandied  about  in  the  gossip 
of  the  town.  Among  young  men  Haldane  passes  for  a 
young  man.  Do  you  wish  to  have  it  the  town  talk  that 
he  has  been  discharged  because  he  ventured  to  compli- 
ment your  niece  with  the  offer  of  his  hand  ?  That  he  has 
been  premature  and  rash  is  chiefly  the  fault  of  his  years 
and  temperament ;  but  no  serious  trouble  need  follow 
unless  we  make  it  ourselves.  Laura  will  return  home  in 
a  day  or  two,  and  if  the  young  fellow  is  dealt  with  wisely 
and  kindly,  this  episode  may  do  much  toward  making  a 
sensible  man  of  him.  If  you  abruptly  discharge  him, 
people  will  imagine  tenfold  more  than  has  occurred,  and 
they  may  surmise  positive  evil." 

"  Well,  well,  have  it  your  own  way,"  said  her  husband 
impatiently.  "  Of  course,  I  do  not  wish  that  Laura  should 
become  the  theme  of  scandal.  But  as  for  this  young  fire- 
brand of  a  Haldane,  there  must  be  a  decided  change  in 
him.     I  cannot  bother  with  him  much  longer." 

"  I  think  I  can  manage  him.  At  any  rate,  please  make 
no  change  that  can  seem  connected  with  this  affair.  If 
you  would  also  exercise  a  little  kindness  and  forbearance, 
I  do  not  think  you  would  ever  have  cause  to  regret  it." 

'•My  office  is  not  an  asylum  for  incapables,  love- 
sick swains,  and  fast  boys.  It's  a  place  of  business,  and 
if  young  Haldane  can't  realize  this,  there  are  plenty  who 
can." 

"As  a  favor  to  me,  I  will  ask  you  to  bear  with  him  as. 
long  as  possible.  Can  you  not  send  him  to  your  factory 
near  New  York  on  some  errand  ?  New  scenes  will  divert 
his  thoughts,  and  sudden  and  acute  attacks,  like  his, 
usually  do  not  last  very  long." 

"Well,  well,  I'll  see." 

Mrs.  Arnot  returned  to  the  parlor,  but  Haldane  was  no 
longer  there.  She  went  to  his  room,  but,  though  he  was 
within,  she  could  obtain  no  response  to  her  knocking,  or 
to  the  kind  tone  in  which  she  spoke  his  name.     She 


54     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

sighed,  but  thought  that  perhaps  he  would  be  calmer  and 
more  open  to  reason  on  the  morrow,  and,  therefore,  re- 
turned to  her  own  apartment.  Indeed,  she  was  glad  to 
do  so,  for  in  her  ill  and  suffering  condition  the  strain  had 
already  been  too  great. 

She  found  Laura  tearful  and  troubled,  and  could  not  do 
less  than  listen  to  her  story. 

"  Do  you  think  I  have  done  any  thing  wrong,  auntie  ?" 
asked  the  girl  in  deep  anxiety. 

"No,  dear,  I  think  you  have  acted  very  sensibly.  I 
wish  I  could  have  foreseen  the  trouble  sooner,  and  saved 
you  both  from  a  disagreeable  experience." 

"  But  uncle  won't  discharge  Mr.  Haldane  on  my  ac- 
count, will  he  ?  "  she  continued  with  almost  equal  solici- 
tude. 

"  Certainly  not.  Egbert  has  not  done  any  thing  that 
should  cause  his  dismissal.  I  think  that  the  only  result 
will  be  to  teach  you  both  that  these  are  matters  which 
should  be  left  to  future  years." 

"  I'm  glad  they  are  distant,  for  I  had  no  idea  that  love 
affairs  were  so  intensely  disagreeable." 

Her  aunt  smiled,  and  after  a  httle  time  the  young  girl 
departed  to  her  rest  quite  comforted  and  reassured. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Arnot  was  too  ill  to  appear  at 
breakfast,  and  her  niece  would  not  venture  down  alone. 
Haldane  and  his  employer  sat  down  together  in  grim 
silence,  and,  after  a  cup  of  coffee  only,  the  former  abruptly 
excused  himself  and  went  to  the  office. 

As  might  have  been  expected,  the  young  man  had 
passed  a  restless  night,  during  which  all  sorts  of  rash, 
wild  purposes  surged  through  his  mind.  At  first  he 
meditated  hiding  his  grief  and  humiliation  in  some  "far 
distant  clime  ; "  but  the  thought  occurred  to  him  after  a 
little  time  that  this  would  be  spiting  himself  more  than 
any  one  else.  His  next  impulse  was  to  leave  the  house 
of  his  "  insulting  employer  "  forever  ;  but  as  he  was  about 


''GLOOMY  grandeur:'  5& 

to  depart,  he  remembered  that  he  happened  to  have 
scarcely  a  dollar  in  his  pocket,  and  therefore  concluded 
to  wait  till  he  had  drawn  his  pay,  or  could  write  to  his 
mother  for  funds.  Then,  as  his  anger  subsided,  a  sense 
of  loss  and  disappointment  overwhelmed  him,  and  for  a 
long  time  he  sobbed  like  a  broken-hearted  child.  After 
this  natural  expression  of  grief  he  felt  better,  and  became 
able  to  think  connectedly.  He  finally  resolved  that  he 
would  become  "famous,"  and  rise  in  "gloomy  grand- 
eur "  till  he  towered  far  above  his  fellow  men.  He  would 
pierce  this  obdurate  maiden's  heart  with  poignant  but 
unavailing  regret  that  she  had  missed  the  one  great 
opportunity  of  her  life.  He  gave  but  slight  and  vague 
consideration  to  the  methods  by  which  he  would  achieve 
the  renown  which  would  overshadow  Laura's  life  ;  but, 
having  resolutely  adopted  the  purpose  with  a  few  tragic 
gestures  and  some  obscure  fragmentary  utterances,  he  felt 
consoled  and  was  able  to  obtain  a  little  sleep. 

The  routine  duties  at  the  office  on  the  following  day  did 
not  promise  very  much,  but  he  went  through  them  in  a 
kind  of  grim,  vindictive  manner,  as  if  resolving  to  set  his 
foot  on  all  obstacles.  He  would  "  suffer  in  silence  and 
give  no  sign  "  till  the  hour  came  when  he  could  flash  out 
upon  the  world.  But  as  the  day  declined,  he  found  the 
role  of  "  gloomy  grandeur"  rather  heavy,  and  he  became 
conscious  of  the  fact  that  he  had  scarcely  eaten  any  thing 
for  nearly  twenty-four  hours.  Another  impulse  began  to 
make  itself  felt — that  of  fulfilling  his  threat  and  torturing 
Miss  Romeyn  by  going  to  ruin.  With  alluring  seductive- 
ness the  thought  insinuated  itself  into  his  mind  that  one 
of  the  first  steps  in  the  tragedy  might  be  a  game  and 
wine  supper,  and  his  growing  hunger  made  this  mode  of 
revenge  more  attractive  than  cold  and  austere  ambition. 

But  Laura's  words  concerning  "disgusting  vices"  re- 
curred to  him  with  all  and  more  than  their  first  stinging 
plainness,  and   he  put  the  impulse  away  with  a  gesture 


66     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  tragic  expression  of  face  that  struck  a  sere  and  with- 
ered book-keeper,  who  happened  at  that  moment  to  look 
up,  as  so  queer  that  he  feared  the  young  man  was  be- 
coming demented. 

Haldane  concluded — and  with  some  reason  in  view  of 
Laura's  romantic  nature — that  only  a  career  of  gloomy 
grandeur  and  high  renown  would  impress  the  maiden 
whom  yesterday  he  proposed  to  make  happy  forever, 
but  to-day  to  blight  with  regret  hke  a  "  worm  i'  the 
bud."  He  already  had  a  vague  presentiment  that  such 
a  role  would  often  mortify  his  tastes  and  inclinations  most 
dismally  ;  and  yet,  what  had  he  henceforth  to  do  with 
pleasure  ?  But  if,  after  he  had  practiced  the  austerity  of 
an  anchorite,  she  should  forget  him,  marry  another, 
and  be  happy  !  the  thought  was  excruciating.  O,  that 
awful  "another"!  He  is  the  fiend  that  drags  disap- 
pointed lovers  down  to  the  lowest  depth  of  their  tortures. 
If  Laura  had  had  a  previous  favorite,  Haldane  would 
have  been  most  happy  to  have  her  meet  "  another  "  in 
himself ;  but  now  this  vague  but  surely  coming  rival  of 
the  future  sent  alternately  cold  chills  and  molten  fire 
through  his  veins. 

He  was  awakened  from  such  painful  reveries  by  a 
summons  to  his  employer's  private  office. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

BIRDS    OF    PREY. 

Mr.  Arnot  in  his  widely  extended  business  owned 
several  factories,  and  in  the  vicinity  of  one,  located  at  a 
suburb  of  New  York,  there  were  no  banking  facilities. 
It  was,  therefore,  his  custom  at  stated  times  to  draw  from 
his  bank  at  Hillaton  such  amounts  in  currency  as  were 
needed  to  pay  those  in  his  employ  at  the  place  indicated, 
and  send  the  money  thither  by  one  of  his  clerks.  Upon 
the  present  occasion,  in  compliance  with  his  wife's  re- 
quest, he  decided  to  send  Haldane.  He  had  no  hesita- 
tion in  doing  this,  as  the  errand  was  one  that  required 
nothing  more  than  honesty  and  a  little  prudence. 

"  Mr.  Haldane,"  said  his  employer,  in  tones  somewhat 
less  cold  and  formal  than  those  habitual  with  him,  "we 
will  let  bygones  be  bygones.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
hereafter  you  will  be  disposed  to  give  your  thoughts  more 
fully  to  business,  as  a  man  should  who  proposes  to 
amount  to  any  thing  in  the  world.  In  these  envelopes 
are  one  thousand  dollars  in  currency.  I  wish  you  to 
place  them  securely  in  your  breast-pockets,  and  take  the 
five-thirty  train  to  New  York,  and  from  thence  early  to- 
morrow go  out  on  the  Long  Island  road  to  a  little  station 
called  Arnotville,  and  give  these  packages  to  Mr.  Black, 
the  agent  in  charge  of  my  factory  there.  Take  his  re- 
ceipt, and  report  to  me  to-morrow  evening.  With  that 
amount  of  money  upon  your  person  you  will  perceive  the 
necessity  of  prudence  and  care.  Here  is  a  check  paying 
your  salary  for  the  past  month.  The  cashier  will  give 
you  currency  for  it.  Report  your  expenses  on  your  re- 
turn, and  they  will  be  paid.  As  the  time  is  limited,  per- 
haps you  can  get  some  lunch  at  or  near  the  depot." 
57 


58     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

"I  prefer  to  do  so,"  said  Haldane,  promptly,  "and 
will  try  to  perform  the  business  to  your  satisfaction." 

Mr.  Arnot  nodded  a  cool  dismissal,  and  Haldane 
started  for  a  hotel-restaurant  near  the  depot  with  a  step 
entirely  too  quick  and  elastic  for  one  who  must  walk 
henceforth  in  the  shadow  of  "  bitter  memories  and  dark 
disappointment."  The  exercise  brought  color  to  his 
cheek,  and  there  certainly  was  a  sparkle  in  his  dark 
eyes.  It  could  not  be  hope,  for  he  had  assured  himself 
again  and  again  that  "  hope  was  dead  in  his  heart."  It 
might  have  been  caused  after  his  long  fast  by  the  antici- 
pation of  a  lunch  at  the  depot  and  a  petit  soiiper  in  the 
city,  and  the  thought  of  washing  both  down  with  a  glass 
of  wine,  or  possibly  with  several.  The  relish  and  com- 
placency with  which  his  mind  dwelt  on  this  prospect 
struck  Haldane  as  rather  incongruous  in  a  being  as 
blighted  as  he  supposed  himself  to  be.  With  his  youth, 
health,  and  unusually  good  digestion  he  would  find  no 
little  difficulty  in  carrying  out  the  "  gloomy  grandeur  " 
scheme,  and  he  began  to  grow  conscious  of  the  fact. 

Indeed,  in  response  to  a  law  of  nature,  he  was  already 
inchned  to  react  from  his  unwonted  depression  into  reck- 
less hilarity.  Impulse  and  inclination  were  his  control- 
ling forces,  and  he  was  accustomed  to  give  himself  up  to 
them  without  much  effort  at  self-restraint.  And  yet  he 
sought  to  imagine  himself  consistent,  so  that  he  could 
maintain  his  self-approval. 

"  I  will  hide  my  despair  with  laughter,"  he  muttered  ; 
"the  world  cannot  know  that  it  is  hollow,  and  but  a 
mask  against  its  vulgar  curiosity." 

A  good  cold  lunch  and  a  cup  of  coffee — which  he 
could  have  obtained  at  once  at  the  hotel  near  the  depot 
— would  not  answer  for  this  victim  of  despair.  Some  ex- 
"tra  delicacies,  which  required  time  for  preparation,  were 
ordered.  In  the  meantime  he  went  to  the  bar  for  an 
^'  appetizer,"  as  he  termed  it.     Here  he  met  an  acquaint- 


BIRDS  OF  PREY.  59 

ance  among  the  loungers  present,  and,  of  course,  asked 
him  to  take  a  social  glass  also.  This  personage  comphed 
in  a  manner  peculiarly  felicitous,  and  in  such  a  way  as 
to  give  the  impression  that  his  acceptance  of  the  courtesy 
was  a  compliment  to  Haldane.  Much  practice  had 
made  him  perfect  in  this  art,  and  the  number  of  drinks 
that  he  was  able  to  secure  gratis  in  the  course  of  a  year 
by  being  always  on  hand  and  by  maintaining  an  air  ct 
slight  superiority,  combined  with  an  appearance  of  ton- 
homie  and  readiness  to  be  social,  would  have  made  a  re- 
markable sum  total. 

Before  their  glasses  clinked  together  he  said,  with  the 
off-handed  courtesy  indigenous  to  bar-rooms,  where  ac- 
quaintances are  made  with  so  little  trouble  and  ceremony  : 

"  Mr.  Haldane,  my  friends  from  New  York,  Mr.  Van 
Wink  and  Mr.  Ketchem." 

Haldane  turned  and  saw  two  young  men  standing  con- 
veniently near,  who  were  dressed  faultlessly  in  the  style 
of  the  day.  There  was  nothing  in  their  appearance  to 
indicate  that  they  did  not  reside  on  Fifth  Avenue,  and,  in- 
deed, they  may  have  had  rooms  on  that  fashionable  street. 

Messrs.  Van  Wink  and  Ketchem  had  also  a  certain  air 
of  superiority,  and  they  shook  hands  with  Haldane  in  a 
way  that  implied, 

"  W^hile  we  are  metropoHtan  men,  we  recognize  in  you 
an  extraordinarily  fine  specimen  of  the  provincial."  And 
the  young  man  was  not  indifferent  to  their  unspoken  flat- 
tery. He  at  once  invited  them  also  to  state  to  the  smirk- 
ing bar-tender  their  preferences  among  the  liquid  com- 
pounds before  them,  and  soon  four  glasses  clinked  to- 
gether. 

With  fine  and  thoughtful  courtesy  they  had  chosen  the- 
same  mixture  that  he  had  ordered  for  himself,  and  surely 
some  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness  must  have  been  in- 
fused in  the  punches  which  they  imbibed,  for  Messrs. 
Van  Wink  and  Ketchem  seemed  to  grow  very  friendly 


60     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

toward  Haldane.  Perhaps  taking  a  drink  with  a  man 
inspired  these  worthies  with  a  regard  for  him  similar  to 
that  which  the  social  eating  of  bread  creates  within  the 
breasts  of  Bedouins,  who,  as  travelers  assert,  will  protect 
with  their  lives  a  stranger  that  has  sat  at  their  board  ; 
but  rob  and  murder,  as  a  matter  of  course,  all  who  have 
not  enjoyed  that  distinction.  Whatever  may  have  been 
the  cause,  the  styhsh  men  from  the  city  were  evidently 
pleased  with  Haldane,  and  they  dehcately  suggested  that 
he  was  such  an  unusually  clever  fellow  that  they  were 
wiUing  to  know  him  better. 

"I  assure  you,  Mr.  Haldane,"  protested  Mr.  Van 
Wink,  "our  meeting  is  an  unexpected  pleasure.  Hav- 
ing completed  our  business  in  town,  time  was  hanging 
heavily  on  our  hands,  and  it  is  still  a  full  half-hour  be- 
fore the  train  leaves." 

"Let  us  drink  again  to  further  acquaintance,"  said 
Mr.  Ketchem  cordially,  evincing  a  decided  disposition  to 
be  friendly  ;  "  Mr.  Haldane  is  in  New  York  occasionally, 
and  we  would  be  glad  to  meet  him  and  help  him  pass  a 
pleasant  hour  there,  as  he  is  enlivening  the  present  hour 
for  us." 

Haldane  was  not  cautious  by  nature,  and  had  been 
predisposed  by  training  to  regard  all  flattering  attention 
and  interest  as  due  to  the  favorable  impression  which  he 
supposed  himself  to  make  invariably  upon  those  whose 
judgment  was  worth  any  thing.  It  is  true  there  had  been 
one  marked  and  humiliating  exception.  But  the  consol- 
ing thought  now  flashed  into  his  mind  that,  perhaps.  Miss 
Romeyn  was,  as  she  asserted,  but  a  mere  "  child,"  and 
incapable,  of  appreciating  him.  The  influence  of  the 
punch  he  had  drank  and  the  immediate  and  friendly  in- 
terest manifested  by  these  gentlemen  who  knew  the 
world,  gave  a  plausible  coloring  to  this  explanation  of 
her  conduct.  After  all,  was  he  not  judging  her  too 
harshly  ?     She  had  not  realized  whom  she  had  refused, 


BIRDS  OF  PREY.  61 

and  when  she  grew  up  in  mind  as  well  as  in  form  she 
might  be  glad  to  act  very  differently.  "  But  I  may 
choose  to  act  differently  also,"  was  his  haughty  mental 
conclusion. 

This  self-communion  took  place  while  the  still  smirking 
bar-tender  was  mixing  the  decoctions  ordered  by  the 
cordial  and  generous  Mr.  Ketchem.  A  moment  later 
four  glasses  clinked  together,  and  Haldane's  first  ac- 
quaintance— the  young  man  with  the  air  of  slight  but 
urbane  superiority — felicitated  himself  that  he  had  ' '  made 
two  free  drinks"  within  a  brief  space  of  time. 

The  effect  of  the  hquor  upon  Haldane  after  his  long 
fast  was  far  greater  than  if  it  had  been  taken  after  a 
hearty  meal,  and  he  began  to  reciprocate  the  friendliness 
of  the  strangers  w^ith  increasing  interest. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  our  meeting  is  one  of  those 
fortunate  incidents  which  promise  much  more  pleasure  to 
come.  I  have  ordered  a  httle  lunch  in  the  dining-room. 
It  will  take  but  a  moment  for  the  waiters  to  add  enough 
for  three  more,  and  then  we  will  ride  into  the  city  to- 
gether, for  my  business  takes  me  there  this  evening  also." 

"1  declare,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Van  Wink  in  a  tone  of 
self-gratulation,  "  were  I  piously  inclined  I  should  be 
tempted  to  call  our  meeting  quite  providential.  But  if 
we  lunch  with  you  it  must  be  on  condition  that  you  take 
a  little  supper  with  us  at  the  Brunswick  after  we  arrive 
in  town." 

"  No  one  could  object  to  such  agreeable  terms,"  cried 
Haldane;  "come,  let  us  adjourn  to  the  dining-room. 
By  the  way,  Mr.  Bar-tender,  send  us  a  bottle  of  your 
best  claret." 

The  young  man  who  an  hour  before  had  regarded 
himself  as  cruelly  blighted  for  life,  was  quite  successful 
in  "  hiding  his  despair  with  laughter."  Indeed,  from  its 
loudness  and  frequency,  undue  exhilaration  was  sug- 
gested rather  than  a  "secret  sorrow."     It  gave  him  a 


^2     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

fine  sense  of  power  and  of  his  manly  estate  to  see  the 
waiters  busthng  around  at  his  bidding,  and  to  remember 
that  he  was  the  host  of  tliree  gentlemen,  who,  while  very 
superior  in  style,  and  evidently  possessed  of  wealth,  still 
recognized  in  him  an  equal  with  whom  they  were  glad  to 
spend  a  social  hour. 

Scarcely  ever  before  had  he  met  any  one  who  appre- 
ciated him  as  fully  as  did  Messrs.  Van  Wink  and 
Ketchem,  and  their  courteous  deference  confirmed  a 
view  which  he  had  long  held,  that  only  in  the  large 
sphere  of  the  metropolis  could  he  find  his  true  level  and 
most  congenial  companionships.  These  young  men  had 
a  style  about  them  which  provincials  could  not  imitate. 
£ven  the  superior  gentleman  who  introduced  them  to 
him  had  a  slightly  dimmed  and  tarnished  appearance  as 
lie  sat  beside  his  friends.  There  was  an  immaculate 
finish  and  newness  about  all  their  appoifitments — not  a 
speck  upon  their  linen,  nor  a  grain  of  dust  upon  their 
broadcloth  and  polished  boots.  If  the  theory  be  true 
that  character  is  shown  in  dress,  these  men,  outwardly 
so  spotless,  must  be  worthy  of  the  confidence  with  which 
they  had  inspired  their  new  acquaintance.  They  sug- 
gested two  bright  coins  just  struck  from  the  mint,  and 
"They  have  the  ring  of  true  metal,"  thought  Haldane. 

It  seemed  to  the  young  men  that  they  had  just  fairly 
commenced  to  enjoy  their  lunch,  when  a  prolonged 
shriek  of  a  locomotive,  dying  away  in  the  distance,  awak- 
ened them  to  a  sense  of  the  flight  of  time.  Hastily  pull- 
ing out  his  watch,  Haldane  exclaimed  with  an  oath, 

"  There  goes  our  train." 

Messrs.  Van  Wink  and  Ketchem  were  apparently 
much  concerned. 

"  Haldane,"  they  exclaimed,  "you  are  much  too  en- 
tertaining a  fellow  for  one  to  meet  when  there's  a  train 
to  be  caught." 

"This  is  a  serious  matter  for  me,"  said  Haldane,  some- 


BIRDS  OF  PREY.  63 

•what  sobered  by  the  thought  of  Mr.  Arnot's  wrath  ;  "  I 
had  important  business  in  town." 

"Can  it  not  be  arranged  by  telegraph?"  asked  Mr. 
Van  Wink  in  a  tone  of  kindly  solicitude. 

"One  can't  send  money  by  telegraph.  No;  I  must 
go  myself." 

The  eyes  of  Haldane's  three  guests  met  for  a  second 
in  a  way  that  indicated  the  confirmation  of  something  in 
their  minds,  and  yet  so  evanescent  was  this  glance  of  in- 
telligence that  a  cool,  close  observer  would  scarcely  have 
detected  it,  much  less  their  flushed  and  excited  host. 

"  Don't  worry,  Haldane,"  said  his  first  acquaintance  ; 
^'  there  is  an  owl-train  along  at  eleven  to-night,  and  you 
can  mail  your  check  or  draft  on  that  if  you  do  not  care 
to  travel  at  such  an  unearthly  hour." 

"  O,  there  is  a  late  train!  "  cried  the  young  man, 
much  relieved.  "Then  I'm  all  right,  I  am  obliged  to 
go  myself,  as  the  funds  I  carry  are  in  such  a  shape  that 
I  cannot  mail  them." 

Again  the  eyes  of  his  guests  met  with  a  furtive  gleam 
of  satisfaction. 

Now  that  Haldane  felt  himself  safely  out  of  his  dilemma, 
he  began  to  be  solicitous  about  his  companions. 

"  I  fear,"  he  said,  "  that  my  poor  courtesy  can  make 
but  small  amends  for  the  loss  of  your  train." 

"Well,  Haldane,"  said  I\Ir.  Ketchem,  with  great  ap- 
parent candor,  "  I  speak  for  myself  when  I  say  that  I 
would  regret  losing  this  train  under  most  circumstances, 
but  with  the  prospect  of  a  social  evening  together  I  can 
scarcely  say  that  I  do." 

"I,  too,"  cried  Mr.  Van  Wink,  "am  inclined  to  re- 
gard our  loss  of  the  train  as  a  happy  freak  of  fortune. 
Let  us  take  the  owl-train,  also,  Ketchem,  and  make  a 
jovial  night  of  it  with  Mr.  Haldane." 

"  Fill  up  your  glasses,  and  we'll  drink  to  a  jolly 
night,"  cried  Haldane,  and  all  complied  with  wonderful 


64     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

zest  and  unanimity.  The  host,  however,  was  too  excited 
and  preoccupied  to  note  that  while  Mr.  Van  Wink  and 
Mr.  Ketchem  were  always  ready  to  have  their  glasses 
filled,  they  never  drained  them  very  low  ;  and  thus  it 
happened  that  he  and  the  slightly  superior  gentleman 
who  made  free  drinks  one  of  the  chief  objects  of  exist- 
ence shared  most  of  the  bottle  of  wine  between  them. 

As  the  young  men  rose  from  the  lunch  table  Haldane 
called  this  individual  aside,  and  said  : 

"  Harker,  I  want  you  to  help  a  fellow  out  of  a  scrape. 
You  must  know  that  I  was  expected  to  leave  town  on  the 
five-thirty  train.  I  do  not  care  to  be  seen  in  the  public 
rooms,  for  old  cast-iron  Arnot  might  make  a  row  about 
my  delay,  even  though  it  will  make  no  difference  in  his 
business.  Please  engage  a  private  room,  where  we  can 
have  a  bottle  of  wine  and  a  quiet  game  of  cards,  and  no 
one  be  the  wiser." 

"  Certainly — nothing  easier  in  the  world — 1  know  just 
the  room — cozy — off  one  side — wait  a  moment,  gentle- 
men." 

It  seemed  but  a  moment  before  he  returned  and  led 
them,  preceded  by  a  bell-boy,  to  just  such  an  apartment 
as  he  had  described.  Though  the  evening  was  mild,  a 
fire  was  lighted  in  the  grate,  and  as  it  kindled  it  com- 
bined with  the  other  appointments  to  give  the  apartment 
an  air  of  luxurious  comfort. 

"Bring  us  a  bottle  of  sherry,"  said  Haldane  to  the 
bell-boy. 

"Also  a  pack  of  cards,  some  fine  old  brandy  and 
cigars,  and  charge  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Ketchem  ;  "  I  wish 
to  have  my  part  in  this  entertainment.  Come,  Harker, 
take  a  seat." 

"  Desperately  sorry  I  can't  spend  the  evening  with 
you,"  said  this  sagacious  personage,  who  realized  with 
extreme  regret  that  not  even  for  the  prospect  of  unlimited 
free  potations  could  he  afford  to  risk  the  loss  of  his  emi- 


BIRDS  OF  PREY.  65 

nent  respectability,  which  he  regarded  as  a  capitalist 
does  his  principal,  something  that  must  be  drawn  upon 
charily.  Mr.  Harker  knew  that  his  mission  was  ended, 
and,  in  spite  of  the  order  for  the  sherry  and  brandy,  he 
had  sufficient  strength  of  mind  to  retire.  In  delicate 
business  transactions  like  the  one  under  consideration  he 
made  it  a  point  to  have  another  engagement  when  mat- 
ters got  about  as  far  along  as  they  now  were  in  Hal- 
dane's  case.  If  any  thing  unpleasant  occurred  between 
parties  whom  he  introduced  to  each  other,  and  he  was 
summoned  as  a  witness,  he  grew  so  exceedingly  dignified 
and  superior  in  his  bearing  that  every  one  felt  Hke  ask- 
ing his  pardon  for  their  suspicions.  He  always  proved 
an  aiibi,  and  left  the  court  room  with  the  air  of  an  injured 
man.  As  people,  however,  became  familiar  with  his 
haunts  and  habits,  there  was  an  increasing  number  who 
regarded  his  virtuous  assumptions  and  professions  of 
ignorance  in  respect  to  certain  cases  of  swindling  with 
incredulous  smiles. 

Mr.  Harker,  however,  could  not  tear  himself  away  till 
the  brandy  and  sherry  appeared,  and,  after  paying  his 
respects  to  both,  went  to  keep  his  engagement,  which 
consisted  in  lounging  about  another  hotel  on  the  other 
side  of  the  depot. 

Messrs.  Van  Wink  and  Ketchem,  of  course,  both 
knew  how  to  deal  the  cards,  and  with  apologetic 
laughter  the  young  men  put  up  small  stakes  at  first,  just 
to  give  zest  to  the  amusement.  Haldane  lost  the  first 
game,  won  the  second  and  third,  lost  again,  had  streaks 
of  good  and  bad  luck  so  skillfully  intermingled  that  the 
thought  often  occurred  to  him, 

"  These  fellows  play  as  fair  a  game  as  I  ever  saw  and 
know  how  to  win  and  lose  money  like  gentlemen." 

But  these  high-toned  "gentlemen"  always  managed 
to  keep  the  bottle  of  sherry  near  him,  and  when  they  lost 
they  would  good-naturedly  and  hilariously  propose  that 


66     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

they  take  a  drink.  Haldane  always  complied,  but  while 
he  drank  they  only  sipped. 

As  the  evening  waned  the  excitement  of  the  infatuated 
youth  deepened.  The  heat  of  the  room  and  the  fumes  of 
tobacco  combined  with  the  liquor  to  unman  him  and  in- 
tensify the  natural  recklessness  of  his  character. 

There  is,  probably,  no  abnormal  passion  that  so  com- 
pletely masters  its  victims  as  that  for  gambling  ;  and  as 
Haldane  won,  lost,  and  won  again,  he  became  so  ab- 
sorbed as  to  be  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time  and  all 
things  else.  But  as  he  lost  self-control,  as  he  half-un- 
consciously  put  his  glass  to  his  lips  with  increasing 
frequency,  his  companions  grew  cooler  and  more  wary. 
Their  eyes  no  longer  beamed  good-naturedly  upon  their 
victim,  but  began  to  emit  the  eager,  cruel  gleams  of 
some  bird  of  prey. 

But  they  still  managed  the  affair  with  consummate 
skill.  Their  aim  was  to  excite  Haldane  to  the  last  de- 
gree of  recklessness,  and  yet  keep  him  sufficiently  sober 
for  further  playing.  From  Harker  they  had  learned  that 
Mr.  Arnot  had  probably  sent  him  in  the  place  of  the 
clerk  usually  employed  ;  and,  if  so,  it  was  quite  certain 
that  he  had  a  large  sum  of  money  upon  his  person. 
Haldane' s  words  on  becoming  aware  that  he  had  missed 
his  train  confirmed  their  surmises,  and  it  was  now  their  ob- 
ject to  beguile  him  into  a  condition  which  would  make  him 
capable  of  risking  his  employer's  funds.  They  also  wished 
that  he  should  remain  sufficiently  sober  to  be  responsible 
for  this  act,  and  to  remember,  as  he  recalled  the  circum- 
stances, that  it  was  his  own  act.  Therefore  they  kept 
the  brandy  beyond  his  reach  ;  that  was  not  yet  needed. 

By  the  time  the  evening  was  half  over,  Haldane  found 
that,  although  he  had  apparently  won  considerable 
money,  he  had  lost  more,  and  that  not  a  penny  of  his 
own  funds  remained.  With  an  angry  oath  he  stated  the 
fact  to  his  companions. 


BIRDS  OF  PREY.  67 

"That's  unfortunate,"  said  Mr.  Ketchem,  sympa- 
thetically. "There  are  nearly  two  hours  yet  before  the 
train  leaves,  and  with  your  disposition  toward  good  luck 
to-night  you  could  clean  us  out  by  that  time,  and  would 
have  to  lend  us  enough  to  pay  our  fares  to  New  York." 

"  It's  a  pity  to  give  up  our  sport  now  that  we  have  just 
got  warmed  up  to  it,"  added  Mr.  Van  Wink,  suggest- 
ively. "  Haven't  you  some  funds  about  you  that  you 
can  borrow  for  the  evening — ^just  enough  to  keep  the 
game  going,  you  know?  " 

Haldane  hesitated.  He  was  not  so  far  gone  but  that 
conscience  entered  an  emphatic  protest.  The  trouble 
was,  however,  that  he  had  never  formed  the  habit  of 
obeying  conscience,  even  when  perfectly  sober.  Another 
influence  of  the  past  also  proved  most  disastrous.  His 
mother's  weakness  now  made  him  weak.  In  permitting 
him  to  take  her  money  without  asking,  she  had  under- 
mined the  instinct  of  integrity  which  in  this  giddy  mo- 
ment of  temptation  might  have  saved  him.  If  he  from 
childhood  had  been  taught  that  the  property  of  others 
was  sacred,  the  very  gravity  of  the  crime  to  which  he 
now  was  urged  would  have  sobered  and  awakened  him 
to  his  danger.  But  his  sense  of  wrong  in  this  had  been 
blunted,  and  there  was  no  very  strong  repugnance  to^ 
ward  the  suggestion. 

Moreover,  his  brain  was  confused  and  excited  to  the 
last  degree  possible  in  one  who  still  continued  sane  and 
responsible.  Indeed,  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  how  fai 
he  was  responsible  at  this  supreme  moment  of  danger. 
He  certainly  had  drank  so  much  as  to  be  unable  to  real, 
ize  the  consequences  of  his  action. 

After  a  moment's  hesitation,  like  one  who  feebly  tries 
to  brace  himself  in  a  swift  torrent,  the  gambler's  passion 
surged  up  against  and  over  his  feeble  will — then  swept 
him  down. 


'CHAPTER  VIII. 

THEIR   VICTIM. 

Haldane  drew  an  envelope  from  his  breast-pocket, 
and  laid  it  on  the  table,  saying  with  a  reckless  laugh, 

"  Well,  well,  as  you  say,  there  is  no  great  harm  in 
borrowing  a  little  of  this  money,  and  returning  it  again 
before  the  evening  is  over.  The  only  question  is  how  to 
open  this  package,  for  if  torn  it  may  require  explanations 
that  I  do  not  care  to  make." 

"We  can  easily  manage  that,"  laughed  Ketchem  ; 
"  put  the  package  in  your  pocket  a  few  moments,"  and 
he  rang  the  bell. 

To  the  boy  who  appeared  he  said,  "Bring  us  three 
hot  whisky  punches — hot,  remember  ;  steaming  hot." 

He  soon  reappeared  with  the  punch,  and  the  door  was 
locked  again. 

"  Hold  your  package  over  the  steam  of  your  punch, 
and  the  gum  will  dissolve  so  that  you  can  open  and  close 
it  in  a  way  that  will  defy  detection." 

The  suggestion  was  speedily  carried  out. 

"  Now,"  continued  Mr.  Ketchem,  "  the  punch  having 
already  served  so  excellent  a  turn,  we  will  finish  it  by 
drinking  to  your  good  luck." 

Haldane  won  the  first  two  games.  This  success,  to- 
gether with  the  liquor,  which  was  strong,  almost  wholly 
dethroned  his  reason,  and  in  his  mad,  drunken  excite- 
ment he  began  to  stake  large  sums.  The  eyes  of  his 
companions  grew  more  wolfish  than  ever,  and  after  a 
significant  flash  toward  each  other,  the  gamblers  turned 
fortune  against  their  victim  finally.  The  brandy  was 
now   placed   within    his  reach,    and  under  its  influence 


THEIR    VICTIM.  69 

Haldane  threw  down  money  at  random.  The  first  pack- 
age was  soon  emptied.  He  snatched  the  other  from  his 
pocket  and  tore  it  open,  but  before  its  contents  had  hke- 
\vise  disappeared  his  head  drooped  upon  his  breast,  and 
he  became  insensible. 

They  watched  him  a  moment,  smiled  grimly  at  each 
other,  drew  a  long  breath  of  rehef,  and,  rising,  stretched 
themselves  like  men  who  had  been  under  a  strain  that 
had  taxed  them  severely. 

"  Half  an  hour  yet,"  said  Mr.  Van  Wink  ;  "  wish  the 
time  was  up." 

"  This  is  a  heavy  swag  if  we  get  off  safely  with  it.  I 
say,  Haldane,  wake  up." 

But  Haldane  was  sunk  in  the  deepest  stupor, 

"  I  guess  it's  safe  enough,"  said  Van  Wink  answering 
Ketchem's  questioning  eyes. 

The  latter  thereupon  completely  emptied  the  remain- 
ing package  of  money,  and  replaced  the  two  empty 
envelopes  in  Haldane's  breast-pocket,  and  buttoned  up 
his  coat. 

With  mutual  glances  of  exultation  at  the  largeness  of 
the  sum,  they  swiftly  divided  the  spoil  between  them. 
It  was  agreed  that  after  leaving  the  hotel  they  should 
separate,  that  one  should  go  to  Boston,  the  other  to 
Baltimore,  and  that  they  should  return  to  their  old 
haunts  in  New  York  after  the  interest  caused  by  the  af- 
fair had  died  out.  Then,  lighting  cigars,  they  coolly  sat 
down  to  wait  for  the  train,  having  first  opened  a  window 
and  placed  Haldane  where  the  fresh  air  would  blow  upon 
him. 

When  the  time  of  departure  approached,  IVIr.  Van 
Wink  went  to  the  bar  and  paid  both  their  own  and  Hal- 
dane's bill,  saying  that  they  would  now  vacate  the  room. 
On  his  return  Ketchem  had  so  far  aroused  Haldane  that 
he  was  able  to  leave  the  house  with  their  assistance,  and 
yet  so  intoxicated  as  to  be  incapable  of  thinking  and  act- 


70     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ing  for  liiniself.  They  took  him  clown  a  side  street,  now 
utterly  deserted,  and  left  him  on  the  steps  of  a  low  grog- 
gery,  from  whence  still  issued  the  voices  of  some  late 
revelers.  Five  minutes  later  the  "  owl  train  "  bore  from 
the  town  Messrs.  Van  Wink  and  Ketchem,  who  might  be 
called  with  a  certain  aptness  birds  of  the  night  and  of 
prey. 

Haldane  remained  upon  the  saloon  steps,  where  he 
had  been  left,  blinking  stupidly  at  a  distant  street  lamp. 
He  had  a  vague  impression  that  something  was  wrong — 
that  a  misfortune  of  some  kind  had  befallen  him,  but  all 
was  confused  and  blurred.  He  would  have  soon  gone 
to  sleep  again  had  not  the  door  opened,  and  a  man 
emerged,  who  exclaimed  : 

"  Faix,  an'  who  have  we  here,  noddin'  to  himself  as  if 
he  knew  more'n  other  folks?  Are  ye  waitin'  for  some 
un  to  ax  ye  within  for  a  comfortin'  dhrop  ?  " 

"  Take  me  'ome,"  mumbled  Haldane. 

"  Where's  yer  home  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Haldane's,"  answered  the  youth,  thinking  him- 
self in  his  native  town. 

"  By  me  sowl,  if  it  isn't  Boss  Arnot's  new  clerk, 
Sure's  me  name  is  Pat  M'Cabe  'tis  Misther  Haldane. 
I  say,  are  ye  sick?  " 

"  Take  me  'ome." 

"  Faix,  I  see,"  winking  at  two  or  three  of  his  cronies 
who  had  gathered  at  the  open  door  ;  "  it's  a  disease  I'm 
taken  wid  meself  at  odd  spells,  though  I  takes  moighty 
good  care  to  kape  out  o'  the  way  of  ould  man  Arnot 
when  I'm  so  afflicted.  He  has  a  quare  way  o'  thinkin' 
that  ivery  man  about  him  can  go  as  rigaler  as  if  made  in 
a  mash-shine  shop,  bad  luck  till  'im." 

Perhaps  all  in  Mr.  Arnot's  employ  would  have  echoed 
this  sentiment,  could  the  ill  luck  have  blighted  him  with- 
out reaching  them.  In  working  his  ^;;/^/^j/<f^  as  he  did  his 
machinery,  Mr.  Arnot  forgot  that  the  latter  was  often. 


THEIR    VICTIM.  7l 

oiled,  but  that  he  entirely  neglected  to  lubricate  the  wills 
of  the  former  with  occasional  expressions  of  kindness 
and  interest  in  their  welfare.  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that 
even  down  to  poor  Pat  M'Cabe,  man  of  all  work  around 
the  office  building,  all  felt  that  their  employer  was  a  hard, 
driving  taskmaster,  who  ever  looked  beyond  them  and 
their  interests  to  what  they  accomplished  for  him.  The 
spirit  of  the  master  infused  itself  among  the  men,  and  the 
tendency  of  each  one  to  look  out  for  himself  without  re- 
gard to  others  was  increased.  If  Pat  had  served  a 
kinder  and  more  considerate  man,  he  might  have  been 
inclined  to  show  greater  consideration  for  the  intoxicated 
youth  ;  but  Pat's  favorite  phrase,  "  Divil  take  the  hind- 
most," was  but  a  fair  expression  of  the  spirit  which  ani- 
mated his  master,  and  the  majority  in  his  employ. 
When,  therefore,  Haldane,  in  his  thick,  imperfect  utter- 
ance, again  said,  "Take  me  'ome,"  Pat  concluded 
that  it  would  be  the  best  and  safest  course  for  himself. 
Helping  the  young  man  to  his.  feet  he  said, 

"Can  ye  walk?  Mighty  onstiddy  on  yer  pins;  but 
I'm  athinkin'  I  can  get  ye  to  the  big  house  afore  mornin". 
Should  I  kape  ye  out  o'  the  way  till  ye  got  sober,  and 
Quid  man  Arnot  find  it  out,  I'd  be  in  the  street  meself 
widout  a  job  'fore  he  ate  his  dinner.  Stiddy  now;  lean 
aginst  me,  and  don't  wabble  yer  legs  so." 

With  like  exhortations  the  elder  and  more  wary  disciple 
of  Bacchus  disappeared  with  his  charge  in  the  gloom  of 
the  night. 

It  chanced  that  the  light  burned  late,  on  this  evening, 
in  Mrs.  Arnot' s  parlor.  The  lady's  indisposition  had 
confined  her  to  her  room  and  couch  during  the  greater 
part  of  the  day  ;  but  as  the  sun  declined,  the  distress  in 
her  head  had  gradually  ceased,  and  she  had  found  her 
airy  drawing-room  a  welcome  change  from  the  apart- 
ment heavy  with  the  odor  of  anaesthetics.  Two  students 
from  the  university  had  aided  in  beguiling  the  early  part 


72     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

of  the  evening,  and  then  Laura  had  commenced  reading 
iloud  an  interesting  tale,  which  had  suspended  the  con- 
sciousness of  time.  But  as  the  marble  clock  on  the 
mantel  chimed  out  the  hour  of  twelve,  Mrs.  Arnot  rose 
hastily  from  the  sofa,  exclaiming : 

"  What  am  I  thinking  of,  to  keep  you  up  so  late  !  If 
your  mother  knew  that  you  were  out  of  your  bed  she 
would  hesitate  to  trust  you  with  me  again." 

"  One  more  chapter,  dear  auntie,  please?  " 

"Yes,  dear,  several  more — to-morrow;  but  to  bed 
now,  instanter.  Come,  kiss  your  remorseful  aunt  good 
night.  I'll  remain  here  a  while  longer,  for  either  your 
foolish  story  or  the  after  effects  of  my  wretched  headache 
make  me  a  trifle  morbid  and  wakeful  to-night.  O,  how 
that  bell  startles  me  !   what  can  it  mean  so  late  ?  " 

The  loud  ring  at  the  door  remained  unanswered  a  few 
moments,  for  the  servants  had  all  retired.  But  the  ap- 
plicant without  did  not  wait  long  before  repeating  the 
summons  still  more  emphatically. 

Then  they  heard  the  library  door  open,  and  I\Ir.  Ar- 
not's  heavy  step  in  the  hall,  as  he  went  himself  to  learn 
the  nature  of  the  untimely  call.  His  wife's  nervous  ti- 
midity vanished  at  once,  and  she  stepped  forward  to  join 
her  husband,  while  Laura  stood  looking  out  from  the 
parlor  entrance  with  a  pale  and  frightened  face.  "  Can 
it  be  bad  news  from  home  ?  "  she  thought. 

"Who  is  there?"  demanded  Mr.  Arnot,  sternly. 

"Me  and  Misther  Haldane,"  answered  a  voice  with- 
out in  broadest  brogue. 

"Mr.  Haldane!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Arnot  excitedly; 
"what  can  this  mean?  W^ho  is  w^?"  he  next  asked 
loudly. 

"Me  is  Pat  M'Cabe,  sure;  the  same  as  tidies  up  the 
office  and  does  yer  irrinds.  Mr.  Haldane's  had  a  bad 
turn,  and  I've  brought  him  home." 

As  Mr.  Arnot  swung  open  the  door,  a  man,  who  s^em- 


THEIR    VICTIM.  73 

ingly  bad  been  leaning  against  it,  fell  prone  within  the 
hall.  Laura  gave  a  slight  scream,  and  Mrs.  Arnot  was 
much  alarmed,  thinking  that  Haldane  was  suffering  from 
some  sudden  and  alarming  attack.  Thoughts  of  at  once 
telegraphing  to  his  mother  were  entering  her  mind,  when 
the  object  of  her  solicitude  tried  to  rise,  and  mumbled  in 
the  thick  utterance  of  intoxication, 

"  This  isn't  home.     Take  me  to  mother's." 

Mrs.  Arnot's  eyes  turned  questioningly  to  her  husband, 
and  she  saw  that  his  face  was  dark  with  anger  and  dis- 
gust. 

"  He  is  drunk,"  he  said,  turning  to  Pat,  who  stood  in 
the  door,  cap  in  hand. 

"  Faix,  sur,  it  looks  moighty  loike  it.  But  it's  not  for 
a  dacent  sober  man  loike  meself  to  spake  sartainly  o' 
sich  matters," 

"  Few  words  and  to  the  point,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Arnot 
harshly  ;  "  your  breath  tells  where  you  have  been.  But 
where  did  you  find  this — and  how  came  you  to  find  him?" 

Either  Mr.  Arnot  was  at  a  loss  for  a  term  which  would 
express  his  estimation  of  the  young  man,  who  had  slowly 
and  unsteadily  risen,  and  was  supporting  himself  by 
holding  fast  the  hat-rack,  or  he  was  restrained  in  his  ut- 
terance by  the  presence  of  his  wife. 

"  Well  sur,"  said  Pat,  with  as  ingenuous  and  candid 
an  air  as  if  he  were  telling  the  truth,  "the  wife  o'  a 
neighbor  o'  mine  was  taken  on  a  suddint,  and  I  went  for 
the  docther,  and  as  I  was  a  comin'  home,  who  shud  I 
see  sittin'  on  a  doorsthep  but  Misther  Haldane,  and  I 
thought  it  me  duty  to  bring  him  home  to  yees." 

"  You  have  done  right.  Was  it  on  the  doorstep  of  a 
drinking-place  you  found  him?  " 

"  I'm  athinkin'  it  was,  sur;  it  had  that  sort  o'  look." 

Mr.  Arnot  turned  to  his  wife  and  said  coldly,  "You 
now  see  how  it  works.  But  this  is  not  a  fit  object  for 
you  and  Laura  to  look  upon  ;  so  please  retire.     I  will  see 


74     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

that  he  gets  safely  to  his  room.  I  suppose  he  must  go 
there,  though  the  station-house  is  the  more  proper  place, 
for  him." 

"  He  certainly  must  go  to  his  own  room,"  said  Mrs. 
Arnot  firmly,  but  quietly. 

"Well,  then,  steady  him  along  up  the  stairs,  Pat.  I 
will  show  you  where  to  put  the — "  and  Mr.  Arnot  again 
seemed  to  hesitate  for  a  term,  but  the  blank  was  more 
expressive  of  his  contempt  than  any  epithet  could  be, 
since  his  tone  and  manner  suggested  the  worst. 

Returning  to  the  parlor,  Mrs.  Arnot  found  Laura's  face 
expressive  of  the  deepest  alarm  and  distress. 

"O  auntie,  what  does  all  this  mean?  Am  I  in  any 
way  to  blame?  He  said  he  would  go  to  ruin  if  I  didn't 
— but  how  could  I  ?  " 

"  No,  my  dear,  you  are  not  in  the  slightest  degree  to 
blame.  Mr.  Haldane  seems  both  bad  and  foolish.  I 
feel  to-night  that  he  is  not  worthy  to  speak  to  you  ;  much 
less  is  he  fit  to  be  intrusted  with  that  which  you  will 
eventually  give,  I  hope,  only  to  one  who  is  pre-eminently 
noble  and  good.  Come  with  me  to  your  room,  my  child. 
I  am  very  sorry  I  permitted  you  to  stay  up  to-night." 

But  Laura  was  sleepless  and  deeply  troubled  :  she  had 
never  seen  a  laborer — much  less  one  of  her  own  ac- 
quaintances— in  Haldane's  condition  before  ;  and  to  her 
young,  innocent  mind  the  event  had  almost  the  character 
of  a  tragedy.  Although  conscious  of  entire  blameless- 
ness,  she  supposed  that  she  was  more  directly  the  cause 
of  Haldane's  behavior  than  was  true,  and  that  he  was 
carrying  out  his  threat  to  destroy  himself  by  reckless  dis- 
sipation. She  did  not  know  that  he  had  been  beguiled 
into  his  miserable  condition  through  bad  habits  of  long 
standing,  and  that  he  had  fallen  into  the  clutches  of  those 
who  always  infest  public  haunts,  and  live  by  preying 
upon  the  fast,  foolish,  and  unwary.  Haldane,  from  his 
character  and  associations,    was  liable  to  such  an  ex- 


THEIR    VICTIM.  75 

perience  whenever  circumstances  combined  to  make  it 
possible.  Young  men  with  no  more  principle  than  he 
possessed  are  never  safe  from  disaster,  and  they  who 
trust  them  trust  rather  to  the  chances  of  their  not  meet- 
ing the  pecuhar  temptations  and  tests  to  which  they 
would  prove  unequal.  Laura  could  not  then  know  how 
little  she  had  to  do  with  the  tremendous  downfall  of  her 
premature  lover.  The  same  conditions  given,  he  would 
probably  have  met  with  the  same  experience  upon  any 
occasion.  After  his  first  glass  of  punch  the  small  degree 
of  discretion  that  he  had  learned  thus  far  in  life  began  to 
desert  him  ;  and  every  man  as  he  becomes  intoxicated  is 
first  a  fool,  and  then  the  victim  of  every  one  who  chooses 
to  take  advantage  of  his  voluntary  helplessness  and  deg- 
radation. 

But  innocent  Laura  saw  a  romantic  and  tragic  element 
in  the  painful  event,  and  she  fell  asleep  with  some  vague 
womanly  thoughts  about  saving  a  fellow-creature  by  the 
sacrifice  of  herself.  However,  the  morning  light,  the 
truth  concerning  Haldane,  and  her  own  good  sense, 
would  banish  such  morbid  fancies.  Indeed  the  worst 
possible  way  in  which  a  young  woman  can  set  about  re- 
forming a  bad  man  is  to  marry  him.  The  usual  result  is 
greatly  increased  guilt  on  the  part  of  the  husband,  and 
hfelong,  hopeless  wretchedness  for  the  wife. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PAT   AND   THE   PRESS. 

Pat  having  steadied  and  half  carried  Haldane  to  his 
room,  Mr.  Arnot  demanded  of  his  clerk  what  had  be- 
come of  the  money  intrusted  to  his  care  ;  but  his  only 
answer  was  a  stupid,  uncomprehending  stare. 

'•  Hold  his  hands,"  said  Mr.  Arnot  impatiently. 

M'Cabe  having  obeyed,  the  man  of  business,  whose 
solicitude  in  the  affair  had  no  concern  with  the  young 
man's  immeasurable  loss,  but  related  only  to  his  own 
money,  immediately  felt  in  Haldane's  pockets  for  the  en- 
velopes which  had  contained  the  thousand  dollars  in  cur- 
rency. The  envelopes  were  safe  enough — one  evidently 
opened  with  the  utmost  care,  and  the  other  torn  reck- 
lessly— but  the  money  was  gone. 

When  Haldane  saw  the  envelopes,  there  was  a  mo- 
mentary expression  of  trouble  and  perplexity  upon  his 
face,  and  he  tried  to  speak  ;  but  his  thick  utterance  was 
unintelligible.  This  gleam  of  intelligence  passed  quickly, 
however,  and  the  stupor  of  intoxication  reasserted  itself. 
His  heavy  eyelids  drooped,  and  Pat  with  difficulty  could 
keep  him  on  his  feet. 

*'  Toss  him  there  on  the  lounge  ;  take  off  his  muddy' 
boots.  Nothing  further  can  be  done  while  he  is  in  this 
beastly  condition,"  said  Mr.  Arnot,  in  a  voice  that  was 
as  harsh  as  the  expression  of  his  face. 

The  empty  envelopes  and  Mr.  Arnot' s  dark  looks  sug- 
gested a  great  deal  to  Pat,  and  he  saw  that  one  of  his 
"sprees"  was  an  innocent  matter  compared  with  this 
affair. 

76 


FAT  AND   THE  PRESS.  77 

"  Now,  go  down  to  my  study  and  wait  there  for  me." 

Pat  obeyed  in  a  very  steady  and  decorous  manner,  for 
the  matter  was  assuming  such  gravity  as  to  sober  hira 
completely. 

Mr.  Arnot  satisfied  himself  that  there  was  no  chance- 
of  escape  from  the  windows,  and  then,  after  another  look 
of  disgust  and  anger  at  Haldane,  who  was  now  sleeping 
heavily,  he  took  the  key  from  the  door,  and  locked  it  on 
the  outside. 

Descending  to  his  study,  the  irate  gentleman  next 
wrote  a  note,  and  gave  it  to  his  porter,  saying, 

"Take  that  to  the  police  head-quarters,  and  ask  that 
it  be  sent  to  the  superintendent  at  once.  No  mistake, 
now,  as  you  value  your  place  ;  and  mind  not  a  word  of 
all  this  to  any  one." 

"  Faix,  sir,  I'll  be  as  dumb  as  an  eyster,  and  do  yer 
biddin'  in  a  jiffy,"  said  Pat,  backing  out  of  the  room,  and^ 
glad  to  escape  from  one  whose  threatening  aspect  seemed 
to  forbode  evil  to  any  one  within  his  reach. 

"  He  looks  black  enough  to  murther  the  poor  young 
spalpeen,"  muttered  the  Irishman,  as  he  hastened  to  do 
his  errand,  remembering  now  with  trepidation  that,  though 
he  had  escaped  from  his  master,  the  big,  red-faced, 
stout-armed  wife  of  his  bosom  was  still  to  be  propitiated 
after  his  late  prowlings. 

When  he  entered  the  main  street,  a  light  that  glim- 
mered from  the  top  of  a  tall  building  suggested  how  he 
might  obtain  that  kind  of  oil  which,  cast  upon  the  domes- 
tic billows  that  so  often  raged  in  his  fourth-floor  back 
room,  was  most  effective  in  producing  a  little  temporary 
smoothness. 

Since  the  weather  was  always  fouler  within  his  domes- 
tic haven  than  without,  and  on  this  occasion  threatened 
to  be  at  its  worst,  Pat  at  one  time  half  decided  not  to  run 
into  port  at  all  ;  but  the  glimmer  of  the  light  already 
mentioned  suggested  another  course. 


78     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Although  the  night  was  far  spent,  Pat  still  longed  for  a 
"  wink  o'  slape  "  before  going  to  his  work,  and,  in  order 
to  enjoy  it,  knew  that  he  must  obtain  the  means  of  allay- 
ing the  storm,  which  was  not  merely  brewing,  but  which, 
from  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  had  long  been  brewed.  In 
his  own  opinion,  the  greenness  of  his  native  isle  had  long 
ago  faded  from  his  mental  and  moral  complexion,  and  he 
did  not  propose  that  any  stray  dollars,  which  by  any 
shrewdness  or  artifice  could  be  diverted  into  his  pocket, 
should  get  by  him. 

Since  his  wife  had  developed  into  a  huge,  female  di- 
vinity, at  whose  shrine  it  seemed  probable  that  he  would 
eventually  become  a  human  sacrifice,  and  whose  wrath, 
in  the  meantime,  it  was  his  daily  task  to  appease,  Pat 
had  gradually  formed  the  habit  of  making  a  sort  of  com- 
panion of  himself.  In  accordance  with  his  custom,  there- 
fore, he  stopped  under  the  high  window  from  whence 
gleamed  the  light,  for  the  sake  of  a  little  personal  coun- 
sel. 

"  Now,  Pat,"  he  muttered,  "  if  yees  had  gone  home  at 
nine  o'clock,  yees  wudn't  be  afeard  to  go  home  now  ; 
and  if  yees  go  home  now  widout  a  dollar  more  or  less, 
the  ould  'ooman  will  make  yer  wish  ees  had  set  on  the 
curb-stone  the  rest  o'  the  night.  They  sez  some  men  has 
no  bowels  o'  marcies  ;  and  after  what  I've  seen  the 
night,  and  afore  the  night,  too,  I  kin  belave  that  Boss 
Arnot's  in'ards  were  cast  at  the  same  foundry  where  he 
gets  his  mash-shines.  Ke  told  me  that  I  must  spake 
nary  a  word  about  what  I've  seen  and  heard,  and  if  I 
should  thry  to  turn  an  honest  penny  by  givin'  a  knowin' 
wink  or  two  where  they  wud  pay  for  the  same,  that  'ud 
be  the  ind  of  Pat  M'Cabe  at  the  big  ot¥ice.  And  yet 
they  sez  that  them  as  buys  news  is  loike  them  that  takes 
stolen  goods — moighty  willin'  to  kape  dark  abou^  where 
they  got  it,  so  that  they  kin  get  more  next  time.  That's 
the  iditor  of  the  Currier '\n  yon  high  room,  and  p'raps 


PAT  AND   THE  PRESS.  79 

he'll  pay  me  as  much  for  a  wink  and  a  hint  the  night  as 
I'll  get  for  me  day's  work  termorrow.  Bust  me  if  I 
don't  thry  him,  if  he'll  fust  promise  me  to  say  if  any  one 
axes  him  that  he  niver  saw  Pat  M'Cabe  in  his  loife,"  and 
the  suddenly  improvised  reporter  climbed  the  long  stair- 
ways to  where  tiie  night  editor  sat  at  his  desk. 

Pat  gave  a  hearty  rap  for  manners,  but  as  the  night 
was  waning  he  walked  in  without  waiting  for  an  answer, 
and  addressed  the  startled  newspaper  man  with  a  busi- 
ness-like directness,  which  might  often  be  advantageously 
imitated  : 

"  Is  this  the  shop  where  yer  pays  a  dacent  price  for 
news  ? ' ' 

"It  depends  on  the  importance  of  the  news,  and  its 
truthfulness,"  answered  the  editor,  after  eying  the  in- 
truder suspiciously  for  a  moment. 

"Thin  I've  got  ye  on  both  counts,  though  I  didn't 
think  ye'd  bear  down  so  heavy  on  its  being  thrue,"  said 
Pat,  advancing  confidently. 

As  the  door  of  the  press-room,  in  which  men  were  at 
^vork,  stood  open,  the  editor  felt  no  alarm  from  the  sud- 
den appearance  of  the  burly  figure  before  him,  but, 
supposing  the  man  had  been  drinking,  he  said  impa- 
tiently : 

"Please  state  your  business  briefly,  as  my  time  is 
valuable." 

"  If  yer  time  is  worth  mor'n  news,  I'll  go  to  another 
shop,"  said  Pat  stiffly,  making  a  feint  of  departure. 

"That's  a  good  fellow,  go  along,"  chimed  in  the  ed- 
itor, bending  down  to  his  writing  again. 
•  Such  disastrous  acquiescence  puzzled  Pat  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  he  growled,  "  No  wonder  yer  prints  a  paper 
that's  loike  a  lump  o'  lead,  when  'stead  o'  lookin'  for 
news  yer  turns  it  away  from  yer  doors." 

"Now,  look  here,  my  man,"  said  the  editor  rising, 
*'if  you  have  anything  to  say,  say  it.     If  you  have  been 


id     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

drinking,  you  will  not  be  permitted  to  make  a  row  in 
this  office." 

"  It'a  not  me,  but  another  man  that's  been  dhrinkin'." 

"Well,"  snarled  the  editor,  *'if  the  other  man  had 
the  drink,  you  have  the  'drunk,'  and  if  you  don't  take 
yourself  off,  I'll  call  some  men  from  the  press-room  who 
may  put  you  down  stairs  uncomfortably  fast." 

"  Hould  on  a  bit,"  remonstrated  Pat,  "  before  yer 
ruffle  yer  feathers  clane  over  yer  head  and  bhnds  yer 
eyes.  Wud  a  man  loike  Boss  Arnot  send  me,  if  I  was 
dhrunk,  wid  a  letther  at  this  toime  o'  night?  and  wud  he 
send  a  letther  to  the  suprintindent  o'  the  perlice  at  this 
toime  o'  the  night  to  ax  him  the  toime  o'  day  !  Afore  yer 
calls  yer  spalpeens  out  o'  the  press-room  squint  at  that." 

The  moment  the  editor  caught  sight  of  the  business 
stamp  on  Mr.  Arnot's  letter  and  the  formal  handwriting, 
his  manner  changed,  and  he  said  suavely  : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon — we  have  misunderstood  one  an- 
other— take  a  chair." 

"There's  been  no  misunderstandin'  on  my  part,"  re- 
torted Pat,  with  an  injured  air  ;  "  I've  got  as  dainty  a 
bit  o'  scandal  jist  under  me  tongue  as  iver  ye  spiced  yer 
paper  wnd,  and  yees  thrates  me  as  if  I  was  the  inimy  o* 
yer  sowl." 

"Well,  you  see,"  said  the  editor  apologetically, 
"  your  not  being  in  our  regular  employ,  Mr. — I  beg  your 
pardon — and  your  coming  in  this  unusual  way  and 
hour — " 

"  But,  begorry,  somethin'  unusual's  happened." 

"  So  I  understand  ;  it  was  very  good  of  you  to  come  to 
us  first ;  just  give  me  the  points,  and  I  will  jot  them  down." 

"  But  what  are  yees  goin'  to  give  me  for  the  pints?  " 

"  That  depends  upon  what  they  are  worth.  News 
cannot  be  paid  for  till  we  learn  its  value." 

"  Och  !  here  I'm  rinnin  a  grate  risk  in  tellin'  ye  at 
all    and  whin  I've  spilt  it  all  out,  and  can't  pick  it  up 


PAT  AND   THE  PEESS.  81 

agin,  ye  may  show  me  the  door,  and  tell  me  to  go  'long 
wid  me  rubbish.' ' 

"  If  you  find  what  you  have  to  report  in  the  paper, 
you  may  know  it  is  worth  something.  So  if  you  will 
look  at  the  paper  to-morrow  you  can  see  whether  it  will 
be  worth  your  while  to  call  again,"  said  the  editor,  be- 
coming impatient  at  Pat's  hesitancy  to  open  his  budget. 

"  But  I'm  in  sore  need  of  a  dollar  or  two  to-night.  Dade, 
it's  as  much  as  my  loife's  worth  to  go  home  widout  'em." 

"See  here,  my  good  friend,"  said  the  editor,  rising 
again  and  speaking  very  energetically  :  ♦'  My  time  is 
very  valuable,  and  you  have  taken  considerable  of  it. 
Whatever  may  be  the  nature  of  your  news,  it  will  not  be 
worth  any  thing  to  me  if  you  do  not  tell  it  at  once." 

"Well,  you  see  the  biggest  part  o'  the  news  is  goin' 
to  happen  to-morrow." 

"  Well,  well,  what  has  happened  to-night  ? '' 

"  Will  ye  promise  not  to  mention  me  name  ?  " 

"  How  can  I  mention  it  when  I  don't  know  it?  " 

"  That's  thrue,  that's  thrue.  Now  me  mind's  aisy  on 
that  pint,  for  ye  must  know  that  Boss  Arnot's  in'ards  are 
made  o*  cast  iron,  and  he'd  have  no  marcy  on  a  feller. 
Ye'U  surely  give  me  a  dollar,  at  laste." 

"Yes,  if  your  story  is  worth  printing,  and  I  give  you 
just  three  minutes  in  which  to  tell  it." 

Thus  pinned  down,  Pat  related  all  he  knew  and  sur- 
mised concerning  Haldane's  woful  predicament,  saying 
in  conclusion, 

"  Ye  must  know  that  this  Haldane  is  not  a  poor  spal- 
peen uv  a  clerk,  but  a  gintleman's  son.  They  sez  that 
his  folks  is  as  stylish  and  rich  as  the  Arnots  themselves. 
If  ye'U  have  a  reporther  up  at  the  office  in  the  mornin', 
ye' 11  git  the  balance  o'  the  tale." 

Having  received  his  dollar,  Pat  went  chuckling  on  his 
way  to  deliver  his  employer's  letter  to  the  superintendent 
of  the  city  police. 


82     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Faix  !  I  was  as  wise  as  a  sarpent  in  not  tellin'  me  name, 
for  ye  niver  can  thrust  these  iditors.  It's  no  green  Irish- 
man that  can  make  a  dollar  after  twelve  o'  the  night." 

A  sleepy  reporter  was  aroused  and  dispatched  after 
Pat,  in  order  to  learn,  if  possible,  the  contents  of  Mr. 
Arnot's  note. 

In  the  meantime  heavily  leaded  lines — vague  and  mys- 
terious— concerning  "Crime  in  High  Life,"  were  set  up, 
accompanied  on  the  editorial  page  by  a  paragraph  ta 
the  following  effect  : 

With  our  usual  enterprise  and  keen  scent  for  news,  we  dis- 
covered at  a  late  hour  last  night  that  an  intelligent  Irishman  in 
the  employ  of  Mr,  Arnot  had  been  intrusted  by  that  gentleman 
with  a  letter  written  after  the  hour  of  midnight  to  the  superin- 
tendent of  the  police.  The  guilty  party  appears  to  be. a  Mr, 
Haldane — a  young  man  of  aristocratic  and  wealthy  connections 
— who  is  at  present  in  Mr.  Arnot's  employ,  and  a  member  of 
his  family.  We  think  we  are  aware  of  the  nature  of  his  grave 
offense,  but  in  justice  to  all  concerned  we  refer  our  readers  to 
our  next  issue,  wherein  they  will  find  full  particulars  of  the 
painful  affair,  since  we  have  obtained  peculiar  facilities  for 
learning  them.     No  arrests  have  yet  been  made, 

"That  will  pique  all  the  gossips  in  town,  and  nearly- 
double  our  next  issue,"  complacently  muttered  the  local 
editor,  as  he  carried  the  scrawl  at  the  last  moment  into 
the  composing-room. 

In  the  meantime  the  hero  of  our  story — if  such  a  term 
by  any  latitude  of  meaning  can  be  applied  to  one  whose 
folly  had  brought  him  into  such  a  prosaic  and  miserable 
plight — still  lay  in  a  heavy  stupor  on  the  lounge  where 
Pat  had  thrown  his  form,  that  had  been  as  limp  and 
helpless  as  if  it  had  become  a  mere  body  without  a  soul. 
But  the  consequences  of  his  action  did  not  cease  with  his 
paralysis,  any  more  than  do  the  influences  of  evil  deeds 
perish  with  a  dying  man. 


CHAPTER  X. 

RETURNING   CONSCIOUSNESS. 

Mr.  Arnot  did  not  leave  his  library  that  night.  His 
wife  came  to  the  door  and  found  it  locked.  To  her  appeal 
he  replied  coldly,  but  decisively,  that  he  was  engaged. 

She  sighed  deeply,  feeling  that  the  sojourn  of  young 
Haldane  under  her  roof  was  destined  to  end  in  a  manner 
most  painful  to  herself  and  to  her  friend,  his  mother. 
She  feared  that  the  latter  would  blame  her  somewhat  for 
his  miserable  fiasco,  and  she  fully  believed  that  if  her 
husband  permitted  the  young  man  to  suffer  open  dis- 
grace, she  would  never  be  forgiven  by  the  proud  and 
aristocratic  lady. 

And  yet  she  felt  that  it  was  almost  useless  to  speak  to 
her  husband  in  his  present  mood,  or  to  hope  that  he 
could  be  induced  to  show  much  consideration  for  so  grave 
an  offense. 

Of  the  worst  feature  in  Haldane' s  conduct,  however, 
she  had  no  knowledge.  Mr.  Arnot  rarely  spoke  to  his 
wife  concerning  his  business,  and  she  had  merely  learned, 
the  previous  evening,  that  Haldane  had  been  sent  to  New 
York  upon  some  errand.  Acting  upon  the  supposition 
that  her  husband  had  remembered  and  complied  with 
her  request,  she  graciously  thanked  him  for  giving  the 
young  man  a  little  change  and  diverting  novelty  of  scene. 

Mr.  Arnot,  who  happened  to  verge  somewhat  toward 
a  complacent  mood  upon  this  occasion,  smiled  grimly  at 
his  wife's  commendation,  and  even  unbent  so  far  as  to 
indulge  in  some  ponderous  attempts  at  wit  with  Laura 
concerning  her  "  magnificent  offer,"  and  asserted  that  if 
she  had  been  "like  his  wife,  she  would  have  jumped  at 

8.3 


84     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

the  chance  of  getting  hold  of  such  a  crude,  unieformed 
specimen  of  humanity.  Indeed,"  concluded  he,  "  I  did 
not  know  but  that  Mrs.  Arnot  was  bringing  about  the 
match,  so  that  she  might  have  a  little  of  the  raw  material 
for  reformatory  purposes  continually  on  hand." 

Mrs.  Arnot  smiled,  as  she  ever  did,  at  her  husband's 
attempted  witticisms  ;  but  what  he  regarded  as  light, 
delicate  shafts,  winged  sportively  and  carelessly,  had 
rather  the  character  of  any  heavy  object  that  came  to 
hand  thrown  at  her  with  heedless,  inconsiderate  force. 
It  is  due  Mr.  Arnot  to  say  that  he  gave  so  little  thought 
and  attention  to  the  wounds  and  bruises  he  caused,  as  to 
be  unaware  that  any  had  been  made.  He  had  no  hair- 
springs and  jewel-tipped  machinery  in  his  massive,  an- 
gular organization,  and  he  acted  practically  as  if  the  rest 
of  humanity  had  been  cast  in  the  same  mold  with  himself. 

But  Haldane's  act  touched  him  at  his  most  vulnerable 
point.  Not  only  had  a  large  sum  of  his  money  been 
made  way  with,  but,  what  was  far  worse,  there  had  been 
a  most  serious  irregularity  in  the  business  routine.  While,, 
therefore,  he  resolved  that  Haldane  should  receive  full 
punishment,  the  ulterior  thought  of  giving  the  rest  of  his 
e7nployes  a  warning  and  intimidating  lesson  chiefly  occu- 
pied his  mind. 

Aware  of  his  wife's  "  unbusiness-like  weakness  and 
sentimental  notions,"  as  he  characterized  her  traits,  he 
determined  not  to  see  her  until  he  had*  carried  out  his 
plan  of  securing  repayment  of  the  money,  and  of  striking 
a  salutary  sentiment  of  fear  into  the  hearts  of  all  who 
were  engaged  in  carrying  out  his  methodical  will. 

Therefore,  with  the  key  of  Haldane's  room  in  his 
pocket,  he  kept  watch  and  guard  during  the  remainder 
of  the  night,  taking  only  such  rest  as  could  be  obtained 
on  the  lounge  in  his  library. 

At  about  sunrise  two  men  appeared,  and  rapped  lightly 
on  the  library  window.     Mr.  Arnot  immediately  went  out 


RETURNING    CONSCIOUSNESS.  a? 

to  them,  and  placed  one  within  a  summer-house  in  the 
spacious  garden  at  the  rear  of  the  house,  and  the  otlier 
in  front,  where  he  would  be  partially  concealed  by  ever- 
greens. By  this  arrangement  the  windows  of  Haldane's 
apartment  and  every  entrance  of  the  house  were  under 
the  surveillance  of  police  officers  in  citizen's  dress.  Mr. 
Arnot's  own  personal  pride,  as  well  as  some  regard  for 
his  wife's  feelings,  led  him  to  arrange  that  the  arrest 
should  not  be  made  at  their  residence,  for  he  wished  that 
all  the  events  occurring  at  the  house  should  be  excluded 
as  far  as  possible  from  the  inevitable  talk  which  the  affair 
would  occasion.  At  the  same  time  he  proposed  to  guard 
against  the  possibility  of  Haldane's  escape,  should  fear  or 
shame  prompt  his  flight. 

Having  now  two  assistant  watchers,  he  threw  himself 
on  the  sofa,  and  took  an  hour  or  more  of  unbroken  sleep. 
On  awaking,  he  went  with  silent  tread  to  the  door  of 
Haldane's  room,  and,  after  Hstening  a  moment,  was 
satisfied  from  the  heavy  breathing  within  that  its  occu- 
pant was  still  under  the  influence  of  stupor.  He  now 
returned  the  key  to  the  door,  and  unlocked  it  so  that 
Haldane  could  pass  out  as  soon  as  he  was  able.  Then, 
after  taking  a  little  refreshment  in  the  dining-room,  he 
went  directly  to  the  residence  of  a  police  justice  of  his 
acquaintance,  who,  on  hearing  the  facts  as  far  as  then 
known  concerning  Haldane,  made  out  a  warrant  for  his 
arrest,  and  promised  that  the  officer  to  whom  it  would  be 
given  should  be  sent  forthwith  to  Mr.  Arnot's  office — for 
thither  the  young  man  would  first  come,  or  be  brought, 
on  recovering  from  his  heavy  sleep. 

Beheving  that  he  had  now  made  all  the  arrangements 
necessary  to  secure  himself  from  loss,  and  to  impress  the 
small  army  in  his  service  that  honesty  was  the  "best 
policy"  in  their  relations  with  him,  Mr.  Arnot  walked 
leisurely  to  one  of  his  factories  in  the  suburbs,  partly  to  see 
that  all  was  right,  and  partly  to  remind  his  agents  there  that 


86     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

they  were  in  the  employ  of  one  whose  untiring  vigilance 
would  not  permit  any  neglect  of  duty  to  escape  undetected. 

Having  noted  that  the  routine  of  work  was  gomg  for- 
ward as  regularly  as  the  monotonous  clank  of  the 
machinery,  he  finally  wended  his  way  to  his  city  office, 
and  was  the  first  arrival  thither  save  Pat  M'Cabe,  wiio 
had  just  finished  putting  the  place  in  order  for  the  busi- 
ness of  the  day.  His  factotum  was  in  mortal  trepi- 
dation, for  in  coming  across  town  he  had  eagerly  bought 
the  morning  Courier,  and  his  complacent  sense  of  security 
at  having  withheld  his  name  from  the  "  oncivil  iditer  " 
vanished  utterly  as  he  read  the  words,  ••  an  intelligent 
Irishman  in  Mr.  Arnot's  employ." 

"  Och  !  bloody  blazes!  that  manes  me,"  he  had  ex- 
claimed ;  "  and  ould  Boss  Arnot  will  know  it  jist  as  well 
as  if  they  had  printed  me  name  all  over  the  paper.  Bad 
luck  to  the  spalpeen,  and  worse  luck  to  meself !  '  Intilli- 
gent  Irishman,'  am  I  ?  Then  what  kind  o'  a  crather  would 
one  be  as  had  no  sinse  a'  tall?  Here  I've  bin  throwin' 
away  forty  dollars  the  month  for  the  sake  o'  one !  Whin 
I  gets  me  discharge  I'd  better  go  round  to  the  tother  side 
o'  the  airth  than  go  home  to  me  woife." 

Nor  were  his  apprehensions  allayed  as  he  saw  Mr. 
Arnot  reading  the  paper  with  a  darkening  scowl  ;  but 
for  the  present  Pat  was  left  in  suspense  as  to  his  fate. 

Clerks  and  book-keepers  soon  appeared,  and  among 
them  a  pohceman,  who  was  summoned  to  the  inner  office, 
and  given  a  seat  somewhat  out  of  sight  behind  the  door. 

Upon  every  face  there  was  an  expression  of  suppressed 
excitement  and  expectation,  for  the  attention  of  those 
who  had  not  seen  the  morning  paper  was  speedily  called 
to  the  ominous  paragraph.  But  the  routine  and  disci- 
pline of  the  office  prevailed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  all 
heads  were  bending  over  bulky  journals  and  ledgers  but 
with  many  a  furtive  glance  at  the  door. 

As  for  Pat,  he  had  the  impression  that  the  policeman 


RETURNING    CONSCIOUSNESS.  87 

^vithin  would  collar  him  before  the  morning  was  over, 
and  march  him  off,  with  Haldane,  to  jail ;  and  he  was 
in  such  a  state  of  nervous  apprehension  that  almost  any 
event  short  of  an  earthquake  would  be  a  relief  if  it  could 
only  happen  at  once. 

The  April  sun  shone  brightly  and  genially  into  the 
apartment  in  which  Haldane  had  been  left  to  sleep  off 
his  drunken  stupor.  In  all  its  appointments  it  appeared 
as  fresh,  inviting,  and  cleanly  as  the  wholesome  light 
without.  The  spirit  of  the  housekeeper  pervaded  every 
part  of  the  mansion,  and  in  both  furniture  and  decora- 
tion it  would  seem  that  she  had  studiously  excluded 
every  thing  which  would  suggest  morbid  or  gloomy 
thoughts.  It  was  Mrs.  Arnot's  philosophy  that  outward 
surroundings  impart  their  coloring  to  the  mind,  and  are 
a  help  or  a  hindrance.  She  was  a  disciple  of  the  hght, 
and  was  well  aware  that  she  must  resolutely  dwell  in  its 
full  effulgence  in  order  to  escape  from  the  blighting 
shadow  of  a  life-long  disappointment.  Thus  she  sought 
to  make  her  home,  not  gay  or  gaudy, — not  a  brilliant 
mockery  of  her  sorrow,  which  she  had  learned  to  calmly 
recognize  as  one  might  a  village  cemetery  in  a  sunny 
landscape, — but  cheerful  and  lightsome  like  this  April 
morning,  which  looked  in  through  the  curtained  windows 
of  Haldane's  apartment,  and  found  every  thing  in  har 
mony  with  itself  save  the  occupant. 

And  yet  he  was  young  and  in  his  spring-time.  Why 
should  he  make  discord  with  the  bright  fresh  morning? 
Because  the  shadow  of  evil — which  is  darker  than  the 
shadow  of  night,  age,  or  sorrow — rested  upon  him.  His 
hair  hung  in  disorder  over  a  brow  which  was  contracted 
into  a  frown.  His  naturally  fine  features  had  a  heavy, 
bloated,  sensual  aspect ;  and  yet,  even  while  he  slept, 
you  caught  a  glimpse  in  this  face — as  through  a  vail — 
of  the  anguish  of  a  spirit  that  was  suffering  brutal  wrong 
and  violence. 


88     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

His  insensibility  was  passing  away.  His  mind  ap- 
peared to  be  struggling  to  cast  off  the  weight  of  a  stupe- 
fied body,  but  for  a  time  its  throes — which  were  rnani* 
fested  by  starts,  strong  shudderings,  and  muttered  words 
— were  ineffectual.  At  last,  in  desperation,  as  it  were, 
the  tortured  soul,  poisoned  even  in  its  imaginings  by  the 
impurity  of  the  lower  nature,  conjured  up  such  a  horrid 
vision  that  in  its  anguish  it  broke  its  chains,  threw  off  the 
crushing  weight,  and  the  young  man  started  up. 

This  returning  consciousness  had  not  been,  hke  the 
dawn  stealing  in  at  his  window,  followed  by  a  burst  of 
sunlight.  As  the  morning  enters  the  stained,  foul,  dingy 
places  of  dissipation,  which  early  in  the  evening  had 
been  the  gas-lighted,  garish  scenes  of  riot  and  senseless 
laughter,  and  later  the  fighting  ground  of  all  the  vile 
vermin  of  the  night  with  their  uncanny  noises, — as  when, 
the  doors  and  w^indows  having  been  at  last  opened,  4;he 
light  struggles  in  through  stale  tobacco-smoke,  revealing 
dimly  a  discolored,  reeking  place,  whose  sights  and  odors 
are  more  in  harmony  with  the  sewer  than  the  sweet  April 
sunshine  and  the  violets  opening  on  southern  slopes, — so 
when  reason  and  memory,  the  janitors  of  the  mind,  first 
admitted  the  light  of  consciousness,  only  the  obscure 
outline  of  miserable  feelings  and  repulsive  events  were 
manifest  to  Haldane's  introspection. 

There  was  a  momentary  relief  at  finding  that  the  hor- 
rible dream  which  had  awakened  him  was  only  a  dream, 
but  while  his  waking  banished  the  uncouth  shapes  of  the 
imagination,  his  sane,  will-guided  vision  saw  revealed 
that  from  which  he  shrank  with  far  greater  dread. 

For  a  few  moments,  as  he  stared  vacantly  around  the 
room,  he  could  realize  nothing  save  a  dull,  leaden  weight 
of  pain.  In  this  dreary  obscurity  of  suffering,  distinct 
causes  of  trouble  and  fear  began  to  shape  themselves. 
There  was  a  mingled  sense  of  misfortune  and  guilt. 
He  had  a  confused  memory  of  a  great  disappointment, 


RETURNING   CONSCIOUSNESS.  89 

and  he  knew  from  his  condition  that  he  had  been  drink- 
ing. 

He  looked  at  himself — he  was  dressed.  There  stood 
his  muddy  boots — two  foul  blots  on  the  beauty  and  clean- 
liness of  the  room.  So  then  he  had  come,  or  had  been 
brought,  at  some  hour  during  the  night,  to  the  house  of 
his  stern  and  exacting  employer.  Haldane  dismissed  the 
thought  of  him  with  a  reckless  oath  ;  but  his  face  dark- 
ened with  anguish  as  he  remembered  that  this  was  also 
the  home  of  Mrs.  Arnot,  who  had  been  so  kind,  and,  at 
the  present  time,  the  home  of  Laura  Romeyn  also. 

They  may  have  seen,  or,  at  least,  must  know  of,  his 
degradation. 

He  staggered  to  the  ewer,  and,  with  a  trembling  hand^. 
poured  out  a  httle  water.  Having  bathed  his  hot,  feverish 
face,  he  again  sat  down,  and  tried  to  recall  what  had 
happened. 

In  bitterness  of  heart  he  remembered  his  last  interview 
with  Laura,  and  her  repugnance  toward  both  himself 
and  what  she  regarded  as  "his  disgusting  vices,"  and 
so  disgusting  did  his  evil  courses  now  seem  that,  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  he  thought  of  himself  with  loathing. 

Then,  as  memory  rapidly  duplicated  subsequent  events,, 
he  gave  a  contemptuous  smile  to  his  "  gloomy  grandeur  " 
schemes  in  passing,  and  saw  himself  on  the  way  to  New 
York,  with  one  thousand  dollars  of  his  employer's  funds- 
intrusted  to  his  care.  He  remembered  that  he  was  in- 
troduced to  two  fascinating  strangers,  that  they  drank 
and  lunched  together,  that  they  missed  the  train,  that 
they  were  gambhng,  that,  having  lost  all  his  own  money,, 
he  was  tempted  to  open  a  package  belonging  to  Mr. 
Arnot ;  did  he  not  open  the  other  also  ?  At  this  point  all 
became  confused  and  blurred. 

What  had  become  of  that  money  ? 

With  nervous,  trembling  haste  he  searched  his  pockets. 
Both  the  money  and  the  envelopes  were  gone. 


•90     KNiailT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

His  face  blanched  ;  his  heart  sank  with  a  certain  fore- 
boding of  evil.  He  found  himself  on  the  brink  of  an 
abyss,  and  felt  the  ground  crumbling  beneath  him.  P'irst 
•came  a  mad  impulse  to  fly,  to  escape  and  hide  himself; 
and  he  had  almost  carried  it  out.  His  hand  was  on  the 
door,  but  he  hesitated,  turned  back,  and  walked  the 
floor  in  agony. 

Then  came  the  better  impulse  of  one  as  yet  unhard- 
ened  in  the  ways  of  evil,  to  go  at  once  to  his  employer, 
tell  the  whole  truth,  and  make  such  reparation  as  was 
Avithin  his  power.  He  knew  that  his  mother  was  abun- 
dantly able  to  pay  back  the  money,  and  he  believed  she 
would  do  so. 

This  he  conceded  was  his  best,  and,  indeed,  only  safe 
course,  and  he  hoped  that  the  wretched  affair  might  be 
so  arranged  as  to  be  kept  hidden  from  the  world.  As 
for  Mrs.  Arnot  and  Laura,  he  felt  that  he  could  never 
.look  them  in  the  face  again. 

Suppose  he  should  meet  them  going  out.  The  very 
thought  was  dreadful,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  would 
sink  to  the  floor  from  shame  under  their  reproachful  eyes. 
Would  they  be  up  yet?  He  looked  at  his  watch;  it  had 
run  down,  and  its  motionless  hands  pointed  at  the  vile, 
helpless  condition  in  which  he  must  have  been  at  the 
time  when  he  usually  wound  it  up. 

He  glanced  from  the  window,  with  the  hope  of  escap- 
ing the  two  human  beings  whom  he  dreaded  more  than 
the  whole  mocking  world  ;  but  it  was  too  lofty  to  admit 
of  a  leap  to  the  ground. 

"  Who  is  yonder  strange  man  that  seems  to  be  watch- 
ing the  house?"  he  queried. 

Was  it  his  shaken  nerves  and  sense  of  guilt  which  led 
him  to  suspect  danger  and  trouble  on  every  side  ? 

"There  is  no  help  for  it,"  he  exclaimed,  grinding  his 
teeth  ;  and,  opening  the  door,  he  hastened  from  the  house, 
looking  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

HALDANE   IS   ARRESTED. 

As  Haldane  strode  rapidly  along  the  winding,  graveled 
path  that  led  from  Mrs.  Arnot's  beautiful  suburban  villa 
to  the  street,  he  started  violently  as  he  encountered  a 
stranger,  who  appeared  to  be  coming  toward  the  man- 
sion ;  and  he  was  greatly  relieved  when  he  was  permitted 
to  pass  unmolested.  And  yet  the  cool  glance  of  scrutiny 
which  he  received  left  a  very  unpleasant  impression. 
Nor  was  this  uneasiness  diminished  when,  on  reaching 
the  street,  he  found  that  the  stranger  had  apparently  ac- 
comphshed  his  errand  to  the  house  so  speedily  that  he 
was  already  returning,  and  accompanied  by  another  man. 

Were  not  their  eyes  fixed  on  him,  or  was  he  misled  by 
his  fears?  After  a  little  time  he  looked  around  again. 
One  of  the  men  had  disappeared,  and  he  breathed  more 
fully.  No  ;  there  he  was  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,, 
and  walking  steadily  abreast  with  him,  while  his  com- 
panion continued  following  about  the  same  distance  away. 

Was  he  "  shadowed  "  .''  He  was,  indeed,  literally  and 
figuratively.  Although  the  sun  was  shining  bright  and 
warm,  never  before  had  he  been  conscious  of  such  a 
horror  of  great  darkness.  The  light  which  can  banish 
the  oppressive,  disheartening  shadow  of  guilt  must  come 
from  beyond  the  sun. 

As  he  entered  the  busier  streets  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
office,  he  saw  a  few  persons  whom  he  knew.  Was  he 
again  misled  by  his  overwrought  and  nervous  condition  ? 
or  did  these  persons  try  to  shun  him  by  turning  corners, 
entering  shops,  or  by  crossing  the  street,  and  looking 
resolutely  the  other  way. 

Could  that  awful  entity,  the  world,  already  know  the 
events  of  the  past  night? 

91 


1)2     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

A  newsboy  was  vociferating  down  a  side  street.  The 
word  "Crime"  only  caught  Haldane's  ear,  but  the  effect 
was  as  cold  and  as  chilling  as  the  drip  of  an  icicle. 

As  he  hastened  up  the  office  steps,  Pat  M'Cabe  scowled 
Tjpon  him,  and  muttered  audibly, 

"Bad  luck  till  yees !  I  wish  I'd  lift  ye  ablinkin'  like 
an  owl  where  I  found  ye. 

••  An'  bad  luck  till  yees,  too,"  added  Pat  in  his  surly 
growl,  as  a  reporter,  note-book  in  hand,  stepped  nimbly 
in  after  Haldane  ;  "it's  meself  that  wishes  iviry  iditer  o' 
the  land  was  burned  up  wid  his  own  lyin'  papers." 

Even  the  most  machine-like  of  the  sere  and  withered 
book-keepers  held  their  pens  in  suspense  as  Haldane 
passed  hastily  toward  Mr.  Arnot's  private  office,  followed 
by  the  reporter,  whose  alert  manner  and  observant,  ques- 
tioning eye  suggested  an  animated  symbol  of  interrogation. 

The  manner  of  his  fellow  clerks  did  not  escape  Hal- 
dane's notice  even  in  that  confused  and  hurried  moment, 
and  it  increased  his  sense  of  an  impending  blow ;  but 
when,  on  entering  the  private  office,  Mr.  Arnot  turned 
toward  him  his  grim,  rigid  face,  and  when  a  man  in  the 
uniform  of  an  officer  of  the  law  rose  and  stepped  forward 
as  if  the  one  expected  had  now  arrived,  his  heart  mis- 
gave him  utterly,  and  for  a  moment  he  found  no  words, 
but  stood  before  his  employer,  pallid  and  trembling,  his 
very  attitude  and  appearance  making  as  full  a  confession 
of  guilt  as  could  the  statement  he  proposed  to  give. 

If  Pat's  opinion  concerning  Mr.  Arnot's  "  in'ards  "  had 
not  been  substantially  correct,  that  inexorable  man  would 
have  seen  that  this  was  not  an  old  offender  who  stood 
before  him.  The  fact  that  Haldane  was  overwhelmed 
with  shame  and  fear,  should  have  tempered  his  course 
with  healing  and  saving  kindness.  But  Mr.  Arnot  had 
already  decided  upon  his  plan,  and  no  other  thought 
would  occur  to  him  save  that  of  carrying  it  out  with  ma- 
chine-like precision.     His  frown  deepened  as  he  saw  the 


HALDANE  IS  ARRESTED.  95 

reporter,  but  after  a  second's  thought  he  made  no  ob- 
jection to  his  presence,  as  the  increasing  pubhcity  that 
would  result  would  add  to  the  punishment  which  was 
designed  to  be  a  signal  warning  to  all  in  his  employ. 

After  a  moment's  lowering  scrutiny  of  the  trembling 
youth,  during  which  his  confidential  clerk,  by  previous 
arrangement,  appeared,  that  he  might  be  a  witness  of  all 
that  occurred,  Mr.  Arnot  said  coldly, 

"  Well,  sir,  perhaps  you  can  now  tell  me  what  has  be- 
come of  the  funds  which  I  intrusted  to  your  care  last 
evening." 

"  That  is  my  purpose — object,"  stammered  Haldane  ;. 
"  if  you  will  only  give  me  a  chance  I  will  tell  you  every 
thing." 

"  I  am  ready  to  hear,  sir.  Be  brief ;  business  has  suf- 
fered too  great  an  interruption  already." 

"Please  have  a  httle  consideration  for  me,"  said  Hal- 
dane, eagerly,  great  beaded  drops  of  perspiration  start- 
ing from  his  brow  ;  "  I  do  not  wish  to  speak  before  all 
these  witnesses.  Give  me  a  private  interview,  and  I  will 
explain  every  thing,  and  can  promise  that  the  money 
shall  be  refunded." 

"I  shall  make  certain  of  that,  rest  assured,"  replied 
Mr.  Arnot,  in  the  same  cold,  relentless  tone.  "The 
money  was  intrusted  to  your  care  last  evening,  in  the 
presence  of  witnesses.  Here  are  the  empty  envelopes. 
If  you  have  any  explanations  to  make  concerning  what 
you  did  with  the  money,  speak  here  and  now." 

"I  must  warn  the  young  man,"  said  the  policeman, 
interposing,  "  not  to  say  any  thing  which  will  tend  to 
criminate  himself.  He  must  remember  that  whatever  he 
says  will  appear  against  him  in  evidence." 

"  But  there  is  no  need  that  this  affair  should  have  any 
such  publicity,"  Haldane  urged  in  great  agitation.  "If 
Mr.  Arnot  will  only  show  a  little  humanity  toward  me  I 
will  Trange  the  matter  so  that  he  will  not  lose  a  penny. 


94      KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Indeed,  my  mother  will  pay  twice  the  sum  rather  than 
have  the  affair  get  abroad." 

The  reporter  just  behind  him  grinned  and  lifted  his 
eyebrows  as  he  took  down  these  words  verbatim. 

"  For  your  mother's  sake  I  deeply  regret  that  '  the  af- 
fair,' as  you  mildly  term  it,  must  and  has  become 
known.  As  far  as  you  are  concerned,  I  have  no  com- 
punctions. When  a  seeming  man  can  commit  a  grave 
crime  in  the  hope  that  a  widowed  mother — whose  stay 
and  pride  he  ought  to  be — will  come  to  his  rescue,  and 
buy  immunity  from  deserved  punishment,  he  neither  de- 
serves, nor  shall  he  receive,  mercy  at  my  hands.  But 
were  I  capable  of  a  maudlin  sentiment  of  pity  in  the  cir- 
cumstances, the  duty  I  owe  my  business  would  prevent 
any  such  expression  as  you  desire.  When  any  one  in 
my  employ  takes  advantage  of  my  confidence,  he  must 
also,  and  with  absolute  certainty,  take  the  consequences." 

"  Bad  luck  ter  yez  !  "  mentally  ejaculated  Pat,  whom 
curiosity  and  the  fascination  of  his  own  impending  fate 
had  drawn  within  earshot. 

"What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  me?"  asked  Hal- 
dane,  his  brow  contracting,  and  his  face  growing  sullen 
under  Mr.  Arnot's  harsh,  bitter  words. 

"  Do  !  What  is  done  with  clerks  who  steal  their  em- 
ployers' money  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  steal  your  money,"  said  Haldane  im- 
petuously. 

"Where  is  it,  then?"  asked  Mr.  Arnot,  with  a  cold 
sneer. 

"Be  careful,  now,"  said  the  policeman;  "you  are 
getting  excited,  and  you  may  say  what  you'll  wish  you 
hadn't." 

"  Mr.  Arnot,  do  you  mean  to  have  it  go  abroad  to  all 
the  world  that  I  have  dehberately  stolen  that  thousand 
dollars?"  asked  the  young  man,  desperately. 

■"  Here    are    the    empty    envelopes.      Where   is   the 


HALDANE  IS  ARRESTED.  95 

money  ?  "  said  his  employer,  in  the  same  cool,  inexorable 
tone. 

"I  met  two  sharpers  from  New  York,  who  made  a 
fool  of  me  — " 

"Made  a  fool  of  you!  that  was  impossible,"  inter- 
rupt'&d  Mr.  Arnot  \vith  a  harsh  laugh. 

"  Dastard  that  you  are,  to  strike  a  man  when  he  is 
down,"  thundered  Haldane  wrathfully.  "  Since  every 
thing  must  go  abroad,  the  truth  shall  go,  and  not  foul 
slander.  I  got  to  drinking  with  these  men  from  New 
York,  and  missed  the  train  — ' ' 

"  Be  careful,  now  ;  think  what  you  are  saying,"  inter- 
rupted the  policeman. 

"  He  charges  me  with  what  amounts  to  a  bald  theft, 
and  in  a  way  that  all  will  hear  of  the  charge,  and  shall 
I  not  defend  myself?  " 

"  O,  certainly,  if  you  can  prove  that  you  did  not  take 
the  money — only  remember,  what  you  say  will  appear  in 
the  evidence." 

"What  evidence?"  cried  the  bewildered  and  excited 
youth  with  an  oath.  "  If  you  will  only  give  me  a  chance, 
you  shall  have  all  the  evidence  there  is  in  a  sentence. 
These  blacklegs  from  New  York  appeared  like  gentlemen. 
A  friend  in  town  introduced  them  to  me,  and,  after  losing 
the  train,  we  agreed  to  spend  the  evening  together. 
They  called  for  cards,  and  they  won  the  money." 

Mr.  Arnot' s  dark  cheek  had  grown  more  swarthy  at 
the  epithet  of  "dastard,"  but  he  coolly  waited  until  Hal- 
dane had  finished,  and  then  asked  in  his  former  tone, 

"  Did  they  take  the  money  from  your  person  and  open 
the  envelopes,  one  carefully,  the  other  recklessly,  before 
they  won  it  ?  " 

Guided  by  this  keen  questioning,  memory  flashed  back 
its  light  on  the  events  of  the  past  night,  and  Haldane 
saw  himself  opening  the  first  package,  certainly,  and  he 
remembered   how  it  was  done.      He  trembled,  and  his 


96     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

face,  that  had  been  so  flushed,  grew  very  pale.  For  a 
moment  he  was  so  overwhelmed  by  a  realization  of  his 
act,  and  its  threatening  consequences,  that  his  tongue  re- 
fused to  plead  in  his  behalf.     At  last  he  stammered, 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  take  the  money — only  to  borrow  a 
little  of  it,  and  return  it  that  same  night.  They  got  me 
drunk — I  was  not  myself.  But  I  assure  you  it  will  all  be 
returned.     I  can — " 

"Officer,  do  your  duty,"  interrupted  Mr.  Arnot 
sternly.  •'  Too  much  time  has  been  wasted  over  the 
affair  already,  but  out  of  regard  for  his  mother  I  wished 
to  give  this  young  man  an  opportunity  to  make  an  ex- 
culpating explanation  or  excuse,  if  it  were  in  his  power. 
Since,  according  to  his  own  statement,  he  is  guilty,  the 
law  must  take  its  course." 

"You  don't  mean  to  send  me  to  prison?"  asked  Hal- 
dane  excitedly. 

"  I  could  never  send  you  to  prison,"  replied  Mr.  Arnot 
coldly  ;  "  your  own  act  may  bring  you  there.  But  I  do 
mean  to  send  you  before  the  justice  who  issued  the  war- 
rant for  your  arrest,  held  by  this  officer.  Unless  you  can 
find  some  one  who  will  give  bail  in  your  behalf,  I  do  not 
see  why  he  should  treat  you  differently  from  other  of- 
fenders." 

"Mr.  Arnot,"  cried  Haldane  passionately,  "this  is 
my  first  and  only  offense.  You  surely  cannot  be  so  cold- 
blooded as  to  inflict  upon  me  this  irreparable  disgrace  ? 
It  will  kill  my  mother." 

"You  should  have  thought  of  all  this  last  evening," 
said  Mr.  Arnot.  "  If  you  persist  in  ignoring  the  fact, 
that  it  is  your  own  deed  that  wounds  your  mother  and 
inflicts  disgrace  upon  yourself,  the  world  will  not.  Come, 
Mr.  Officer,  serve  your  warrant,  and  remove  your  pris- 
oner." 

"Is  it  your  purpose  that  I  shall  be  dragged  through 
these  streets  in  the  broad  light  of  day  to  a  police  court, 


HAL  DANE  IS  ARRESTED.  97 

and  thence  to  jail  ?  "  demanded  Haldane,  a  dark  menace 
coming  into  his  eyes,  and  finding  expression  in  his  Hvid 
face. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  man  of  business,  rising  and  speak- 
ing in  loud,  stern  tones,  so  that  all  in  the  office  could 
hear  ;  "  I  mean  that  you  or  any  one  else  in  my  employ 
Avho  abuses  my  trust  and  breaks  the  laws  shall  suffer 
their  full  penalty." 

"You  are  a  hard-hearted  wretch!"  thundered  Hal- 
dane ;  "  you  are  a  pagan  idolater,  and  gold  is  your  god. 
You  crush  your  wife  and  servants  at  home  ;  you  crush 
the  spirit  and  manhood  of  your  clerks  here  by  your  cast- 
iron  system  and  rules.  If  you  had  shown  a  little  con- 
sideration for  me  you  would  have  lost  nothing,  and  I 
might  have  had  a  chance  for  a  better  life.  But  you 
tread  me  down  into  the  mire  of  the  streets  ;  you  make  it 
impossible  for  me  to  appear  among  decent  men  again  ; 
you  strike  my  mother  and  sisters  as  with  a  dagger.  Curse 
you  !  if  I  go  to  jail,  it  will  require  you  and  all  your  clerks 
to  take  me  there!"  and  he  whirled  on  his  heel,  and 
struck  out  recklessly  toward  the  door. 

The  busy  reporter  was  capsized  by  the  first  blow,  and 
his  nose  long  bore  evidence  that  it  is  a  serious  matter  to 
put  that  member  into  other  people's  affairs,  even  in  a 
professional  way. 

Before  Haldane  could  pass  from  the  inner  office  two 
strangers,  who  had  been  standing  quietly  at  the  door, 
each  dexterously  seized  one  of  his  hands  with  such  an 
iron  grasp  that,  after  a  momentary  struggle,  he  gave  up, 
conscious  of  the  hopelessness  of  resistance. 

"  If  you  will  go  quietly  with  us  we  will  employ  no  force," 
said  the  man  in  uniform  ;  "  otherwise  we  must  use  these  ;  " 
and  Haldane  shuddered  as  light  steel  manacles  were  pro- 
duced. "These  men  are  officers  like  myself,  and  you 
see  that  you  stand  no  chance  with  three  of  us." 

"  Well,  lead   on,  then,"  was  the   sullen  answer.     "I 


98     KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

will  go  quietly  if  you  don't  use  those,  but  if  you  do,  I 
will  not  yield  while  there  is  a  breath  of  life  in  me." 

"  A  most  desperate  and  hardened  wretch  !  "  ejaculated 
the  reporter,  sopping  his  streaming  nose. 

With  a  dark  look  and  deep  malediction  upon  his  em- 
ployer, Haldane  was  led  away. 

Mr.  Arnot  was  in  no  gentle  mood,  for,  while  he  had 
carried  out  his  programme,  the  machinery  of  the  legal 
process  had  not  worked  smoothly.  Very  disagreeable 
things  had  been  said  to  him  in  the  hearing  of  his  clerks 
and  others.  "Of  course,  they  are  not  true,"  thought 
the  gentleman;  "but  his  insolent  words  will  go  out  in 
the  accounts  of  the  affair  as  surely  as  my  own." 

If  Haldane  had  been  utterly  overwhelmed  and  broken 
down,  and  had  shown  only  the  cringing  spirit  of  a  de- 
tected and  whipped  cur,  Mr.  Arnot' s  complacency 
would  have  been  perfect.  But  as  it  was,  the  affair  had 
gone  forward  in  a  jarring,  uncomfortable  manner,  which 
annoyed  and  irritated  him  as  would  a  defective,  creaking 
piece  of  mechanism  in  one  of  his  factories.  Opposition, 
friction  of  any  kind,  only  made  his  imperious  will  more 
intolerant  of  disobedience  or  neglect ;  therefore  he  sum- 
moned Pat  in  a  tone  whose  very  accent  foretold  the 
doom  of  the  "intelligent  Irishman." 

"  Did  I  not  order  you  to  give  no  information  to  any 
one  concerning  what  occurred  last  night?"  he  de- 
manded in  his  sternest  tone. 

Pat  hitched  and  wriggled,  for  giving  up  his  forty  dol- 
lars a  month  was  hke  a  surgical  operation.  He  saw  that 
his  master  was  incensed,  and  in  no  mood  for  extenuation  ; 
so  he  pleaded  — 

"  Misther  Arnot,  won't  ye  plaze  slape  on  it  afore  ye 
gives  me  me  discharge.  If  ye' 11  only  think  a  bit  about 
them  newspaper  men,  ye'U  know  it  could  not  be  helped 
a'  tall.  If  they  suspicion  that  a  man  has  any  thing  in 
him  that  they're  wantin'  to  know,  they  the  same  as  put  a 


EALDAXE  IS  ARRESTED,  ^9 

corkscrew  intil  him,  and  pull  till  somethin'  comes,  and 
thin  they  make  up  the  rest.  Faix,  sur,  I  niver  could  o' 
got  by  'em  aloive  wid  me  letther  onless  a  little  o'  the 
news  had  gone  intil  their  rav'nous  maws." 

"  Then  I'll  find  a  man  who  can  get  by  them,  and  who 
is  able  to  obey  my  orders  to  the  letter.  The  cashier  will 
pay  you  up  to  date  ;  then  leave  the  premises," 

"  Och,  Misther  Arnot,  me  woife  '11  be  the  death  o'  me, 
and  thin  ye'll  have  me  bluid  on  yer  sowl.  Give  me  one 
more  — " 

"  Begone  !  "  said  his  employer  harshly  ;  "too  much 
time  has  been  wasted  already." 

Pat  found  that  his  case  was  so  desperate  that  he  be- 
came reckless,  and,  instead  of  slinking  off,  he,  too, 
showed  the  same  insubordination  and  disregard  for  Mr. 
Arnot's  power  and  dignity  that  had  been  so  irritating  in 
Haldane.  Clapping  his  hat  on  one  side  of  his  head,  and 
with  such  an  insolent  cant  forward  that  it  quite  obscured 
his  left  eye,  Pat  rested  his  hands  on  his  hips,  and  with 
one  foot  thrust  out  sideways,  he  fixed  his  right  eye  on  his 
employer  with  the  expression  of  sardonic  contemplation, 
and  then  delivered  himself  as  follows  : 

"The  takin'  up  a  few  minits  o'  yer  toime  is  a  moighty 
tirrible  waste,  but  the  sindin'  of  a  human  bain  to  the 
divil  is  no  waste  a'  tall  a'  tall  :  that's  the  way  ye  rason, 
is  it?  I  allers  heerd  that  yer  in'ards  were  made  o'  cast 
iron,  and  I  can  belave — " 

"  Leave  this  office,"  thundered  Mr.  Arnot. 

"  Begorry,  ye  can't  put  a  man  in  jail  for  spakin'  his 
moind,  nor  for  spakin'  the  truth.  If  ye  had  given  me  a 
chance  I'd  been  civil  and  obadient  the  rist  o'  me  days. 
But  whin  ye  act  to'ard  a  man  as  if  he  was  a  lump  o' 
dirt  that  ye  can  kick  out  o'  the  way,  and  go  on,  ye'll 
foind  that  the  lump  o'  dirt  will  lave  some  marks  on  yer 
nice  clothes.  I  tell  yer  till  yer  flinty  ould  face  that  ye'r 
a  hard-hearted  riprobate  that  'ud  grind  a  poor  divil  to 


100    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

paces  as  soon  as  any  mash-shinc  in  all  yer  big  factories. 
Ye*  11  see  the  day  whin  ye' 11  be  under  somebody's  heel 
yerself,  bad  luck  to  yez  !  " 

Pat's  irate  volubility  flowed  in  such  a  torrent  that  even 
Mr.  Arnot  could  not  check  it  until  he  saw  fit  to  drop  the 
sluice-gates  himself,  which,  with  a  contemptuous  sniff, 
and  an  expression  of  concentrated  wormwood  and  gall, 
he  now  did.  Lifting  his  battered  hat  a  little  more  toward 
the  perpendicular,  he  w^ent  to  the  cashier's  desk,  obtained 
his  money,  and  then  jogged  slowly  and  aimlessly  down 
the  street,  leaving  a  wake  of  strange  oaths  behind  him. 

Thus  Mr.  Arnot's  system  again  ground  out  the  ex- 
pected result  ;  but  the  plague  of  humanity  was  that  it 
would  not  endure  the  grinding  process  with  the  same 
stolid,  inert  helplessness  of  other  raw  material.  Though 
he  had  had  his  way  in  each  instance,  he  grew  more  and 
more  dissatisfied  and  out  of  sorts.  This  vituperation  of 
himself  w^ould  not  tend  to  impress  his  employes  with  awe, 
and  strike  a  wholesome  fear  in  their  hearts.  The  cul- 
prits, instead  of  slinking  away  overwhelmed  with  guilt 
and  the  weight  of  his  displeasure,  had  acted  and  spoken 
as  if  he  were  a  grim  old  tyrant  ;  and  he  had  a  vague, 
uncomfortable  feeling  that  his  clerks  in  their  hearts  sided 
with  them  and  against  him.  It  even  occurred  to  him 
that  he  was  creating  a  relation  between  himself  and  those 
in  his  service  similar  to  that  existing  between  master  and 
slaves  ;  and  that,  instead  of  forming  a  community  with 
identical  interests,  he  was  on  one  side  and  they  on  the 
other.  But,  with  the  infatuation  of  a  selfish  nature  and 
imperious  will,  he  muttered  : 

"  Curse  them  !  I'll  make  them  move  in  my  grooves, 
or  toss  them  out  of  the  way  !  "  Then,  summoning  his 
confidential  clerk,  he  said  : 

"You  know  all  about  the  affair.  You  will  oblige  me  by 
going  to  the  office  of  the  justice,  and  stating  the  case,  with 
the  prisoner's  admissions.  I  do  not  care  to  appear  further 
in  the  matter,  except  by  proxy,  unless  it  is  necessary." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A   MEMORABLE    MEETING. 

Mrs.  Arnot  had  looked  upon  Haldane's  degradation 
with  feehngs  akin  to  disgust  and  anger,  but  as  long, 
sleepless  hours  passed,  her  thoughts  grew  more  gentle 
and  compassionate.  She  was  by  nature  an  advocate 
rather  than  a  judge.  Not  the  spirit  of  the  disciples,  that 
would  call  down  fire  from  heaven,  but  the  spirit  of  the 
Master,  who  sought  to  lay  His  healing,  rescuing  hand  on 
every  lost  creature,  always  controlled  her  eventually. 
Human  desert  did  not  count  as  much  with  her  as  human 
need,  and  her  own  sorrows  had  made  her  heart  tender 
toward  the  sufferings  of  others,  even  though  well  merited. 

The  prospect  that  the  handsome  youth,  the  son  of  her 
old  friend,  would  cast  himself  down  to  perish  in  the 
slough  of  dissipation,  was  a  tragedy  that  wrung  her  heart 
with  grief  ;  and  when  at  last  she  fell  asleep  it  was  with 
tears  upon  her  face. 

Forebodings  had  followed  Laura  also,  even  into  her 
dreams,  and  at  last,  in  a  frightful  vision,  she  saw  her 
uncle  placing  a  giant  on  guard  over  the  house.  Her 
uncle  had  scarcely  disappeared  before  Haldane  tried  to 
escape,  but  the  giant  raised  his  mighty  club,  as  large  and 
heavy  as  the  mast  of  a  ship,  and  was  about  to  strike 
when  she  awoke  with  a  violent  start. 

In  strange  unison  with  her  dream  she  still  heard  her 
uncle's  voice  in  the  garden  below.  She  sprang  to  the; 
window,  half  expecting  to  see  the  giant  also  nor  was  she 
greatly  reassured  on  observing  an  unknown  man  posted 
in  the  summer-house  and  left  there.     Mr.  Arnot's  mys- 

101 


102   KNIGUT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

lerious  action,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  out  at  that  early 
hour,  added  to  the  disquiet  of  mind  which  the  events  of 
the  preceding  night  had  created. 

Her  simple  home-life  had  hitherto  flowed  like  a  placid 
stream  in  sunny  meadows,  but  now  it  seemed  as  if  the 
stream  were  entering  a  forest  where  dark  and  ominous 
shadows  were  thrown  across  its  surface.  She  was  too 
womanly  to  be  indifferent  to  the  fate  of  any  human  be- 
ing. At  the  same  time  she  was  still  so  much  of  a  child, 
and  so  ignorant  of  the  world,  that  Haldane's  action,  even 
as  she  understood  it,  loomed  up  before  her  imagination 
as  something  awful  and  portentous  of  unknown  evils. 
She  was  oppressed  with  a  feeling  that  a  crushing  blow 
impended  over  him.  Now,  almost  as  vividly  as  in  her 
dream,  she  still  saw  the  giant's  club  raised  high  to  strike. 
If  it  were  only  in  a  fairy  tale,  her  sensitive  spirit  would 
tremble  at  such  a  stroke,  but  inasmuch  as  it  was  falling 
on  one  who  had  avowed  passionate  love  for  her,  she  felt 
almost  as  if  she  must  share  in  its  weight.  The  idea  of 
reciprocating  any  feeling  that  resembled  his  passion  had 
at  first  been  absurd,  and  now,  in  view  of  what  he  had 
shown  himself  capable,  seemed  impossible  ;  and  yet  his 
strongly-expressed  regard  for  her  created  a  sort  of  bond 
between  them  in  spite  of  herself.  She  had  realized  the 
night  before  that  he  would  be  immediately  dismissed  and 
sent  home  in  disgrace  ;  but  her  dream,  and  the  glimpse 
she  had  caught  of  her  uncle  and  the  observant  stranger, 
who,  as  she  saw,  still  maintained  his  position,  suggested 
worse  consequences,  whose  very  vagueness  made  them 
all  the  more  dreadful. 

As  it  was  still  a  long  time  before  the  breakfast  hour, 
-she  again  sought  her  couch,  and  after  a  while  fell  into  a 
troubled  sleep,  from  which  she  was  awakened  by  her 
aunt.  Hastily  dressing,  she  joined  Mrs.  Arnot  at  a  late 
breakfast,  and  soon  discovered  that  she  was  worried  and 
anxious  as  well  as  herself. 


A   MEMORABLE  MEETING.  103 

"  Has  Mr.  Haldane  gone  out  ?  "   she  asked. 

"Yes  ;  and  what  perplexes  me  is  .^hat  two  strangers 
followed  him  to  the  street  so  rapidly  that  they  almost 
seemed  in  pursuit." 

Then  Laura  related  what  she  had  seen,  and  her  aunt's 
face  grew  pale  and  somewhat  rigid  as  she  recognized  the 
fact  that  her  husband  was  carrying  out  some  plan,  un- 
known to  her,  which  might  involve  a  cruel  blow  to  her 
friend,  Mrs.  Haldane,  and  an  overwhelming  disgrace  to 
Egbert  Haldane.  At  the  same  time  the  thought  flashed 
upon  her  that  the  young  man's  offense  might  be  graver 
than  she  had  supposed.     But  she  only  remarked  quietly, 

"  I  will  go  down  to  the  office  and  see  your  uncle  after 
breakfast." 

"O  auntie,  please  let  me  go  with  you,"  said  Laura 
nervously. 

"  I  may  wish  to  see  my  husband  alone,"  repHed  Mrs. 
Arnot  doubtfully,  foreseeing  a  possible  interview  which 
she  would  prefer  her  niece  should  not  witness. 

"  I  will  wait  for  you  in  the  outer  office,  auntie,  if  you 
will  only  let  me  go.  I  am  so  unstrung  that  I  cannot  bear 
to  be  left  in  the  house  alone." 

"Very  well,  then;  we'll  go  together,  and  a  walk  in 
the  open  air  will  do  us  both  good." 

As  Mrs.  Arnot  was  finishing  her  breakfast  she  listlessly 
took  up  the  morning  Courier,  and  with  a  sudden  start 
read  the  heavy  head-lines  and  paragraph  which  Pat's 
unlucky  venture  as  a  reporter  had  occasioned. 

"Come,  Laura,  let  us  go  at  once,"  said  she,  rising 
hastily  ;  and  as  soon  as  they  could  prepare  themselves 
for  the  street  they  started  toward  the  central  part  of  the 
city,  each  too  busy  with  her  own  thoughts  to  speak  often, 
and  yet  each  having  a  grateful  consciousness  of  un- 
spoken sympathy  and  companionship. 

As  they  passed  down  the  main  street  they  saw  a  noisy 
crowd   coming   up   the   sidewalk  toward  them,  and  they 


104   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

crossed  over  to  avoid  it.  But  the  approaching  throng 
grew  so  large  and  boisterous  that  they  deemed  it  prudent 
to  enter  the  open  door  of  a  shop  until  it  passed.  Their 
somewhat  elevated  position  gave  them  a  commanding 
view,  and  a  policeman's  uniform  at  once  indicated  that  it 
was  an  arrest  that  had  drawn  together  the  loose  human 
atoms  that  are  always  drifting  about  the  streets.  The 
prisoner  was  followed  by  a  retinue  that  might  have 
bowed  the  head  of  an  old  and  hardened  offender  with 
shame, — rude,  idle,  half-grown  boys,  with  their  morbid 
interest  in  everything  tending  to  excitement  and  crime, 
seedy  loungers  drawn  away  from  saloon  doors  where 
they  are  as  surely  to  be  found  as  certain  coarse  weeds  in 
foul,  neglected  corners — a  ragged,  unkempt,  repulsive 
jumble  of  humanity,  that  filled  the  street  with  gibes, 
slang,  and  profanity.  Laura  was  about  to  retreat  into  the 
shop  in  utter  disgust,  when  her  aunt  exclaimed  in  a  tone 
of  sharp  distress, 

"  Merciful  Heaven  !  there  is  Egbert  Haldane  !  " 

With  something  like  a  shock  of  terror  she  recognized 
her  quondam  lover,  the  youth  who  had  stood  at  her  side 
and  turned  her  music.  But  as  she  saw  him  now  there 
appeared  an  immeasurable  gulf  between  them  ;  while 
her  pity  for  him  was  profound,  it  seemed  as  helpless  and 
hopeless  in  his  behalf  as  if  he  were  a  guilty  spirit  that 
was  being  dragged  away  to  final  doom. 

Her  aunt's  startled  exclamation  caught  the  young 
man's  attention,  for  it  was  a  voice  that  he  would  detect 
among  a  thousand,  and  he  turned  his  livid  face,  with  iis 
agonized,  hunted  look,  directly  toward  them. 

As  their  eyes  met — as  he  saw  the  one  of  all  the  world 
that  he  then  most  dreaded  to  meet,  Laura  Romeyn,  re- 
garding him  with  a  pale,  frightened  face,  as  if  he  were  a 
monster,  a  wild  beast,  nay,  worse,  a  common  thief  on 
his  way  to  jail — he  stopped  abruptly,  and  for  a  second 
seemed  to  meditate  some  desperate  act.     But  when  he 


A    MEMORABLE  3IEETING.  105 

saw  the  rabble  closing  on  him,  and  heard  the  officers 
growl  in  surly  tones,  "  Move  on,"  a  sense  of  helplessness 
as  well  as  of  shame  overwhelmed  him.  He  shivered 
visibly,  dashed  his  hat  down  over  his  eyes,  and  strode 
on,  feeling  at  last  that  the  obscurity  of  a  prison  cell 
would  prove  a  welcome  refuge. 

But  Mrs.  Arnot  had  recognized  the  intolerable  suffer- 
ing and  humiliation  stamped  on  the  young  man's  fea- 
tures ;  she  had  seen  the  fearful,  shrinking  gaze  at  herself 
and  Laura,  the  lurid  gleam  of  desperation,  and  read  cor- 
rectly the  despairing  gesture  by  which  he  sought  to  hide 
from  them,  the  rabble,  and  all  the  world,  a  countenance 
from  which  he  already  felt  that  shame  had  blotted  all 
trace  of  manhood. 

Her  face  again  wore  a  gray,  rigid  aspect,  as  if  she  had 
received  a  wound  that  touched  her  heart  ;  and,  scarcely 
waiting  for  the  miscellaneous  horde  to  pass,  she  took 
Laura's  arm,  and  said  briefly  and  almost  sternly, 

"  Come." 

Mr.  Arnot's  equanimity  was  again  destined  to  be  dis- 
turbed. Until  he  had  commenced  to  carry  out  his 
scheme  of  striking  fear  into  the  hearts  of  his  employes,  he 
had  derived  much  grim  satisfaction  from  its  contempla- 
tion. But  never  had  a  severe  and  unrelenting  policy 
failed  more  signally,  and  a  partial  consciousness  of  the 
fact  annoyed  him  like  a  constant  stinging  of  nettles 
which  he  could  not  brush  aside.  When,  therefore,  his 
wife  entered,  he  greeted  her  with  his  heaviest  frown,  and 
a  certain  twitching  of  his  hands  as  he  fumbled  among  his 
papers,  which  showed  that  the  man  who  at  times  seemed 
composed  of  equal  parts  of  iron  and  lead  had  at  last 
reached  a  condition  of  nervous  irritability  which  might 
result  in  an  explosion  of  wrath  ;  and  yet  he  made  a  des- 
perate effort  at  self-control,  for  he  saw  that  his  wife  was 
in  one  of  those  moods  which  he  had  learned  to  regard 
with  a  wholesome  respect. 


106   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURT. 

"You  have  sent  Haldane  to  prison,"  she  said  coimly. 
Though  her  tone  was  so  quiet,  there  was  in  it  a  certain 
depth  and  tremble  which  her  husband  well  underetood, 
but  he  only  answered  briefly  : 

"  Yes  ;  he  must  go  there  if  he  finds  no  bail." 

"  May  I  ask  why  ?  " 

"  He  robbed  me  of  a  thousand  dollars." 

"Were  there  no  extenuating  circumstances?"  Mrs. 
Arnot  asked,  after  a  slight  start. 

"  No,  but  many  aggrav^ating  ones." 

"  Did  he  not  come  here  of  his  own  accord  ?  " 

"  He  could  not  have  done  otherwise.  I  had  detectives 
watching  him." 

"  He  could  have  tried  to  do  otherwise.  Did  he  not 
offer  some  explanation  ?  " 

"What  he  said  amounted  to  a  confession  of  the 
crime." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  charged  my  mind  with  all  the  rash,  foolish 
words  of  the  young  scapegrace.  It  is  sufficient  for  me 
that  he  and  all  in  my  employ  received  a  lesson  which 
they  will  not  soon  forget.  I  wish  you  would  excuse  me 
from  further  consideration  of  the  subject  at  present.  It 
has  cost  me  too  much  time  already." 

"  You  are  correct,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  very  quietly.  "It 
15  likely  to  prove  a  very  costly  affair.  I  tremble  to  think 
what  your  lesson  may  cost  this  young  man,  whom  you 
liave  rendered  reckless  and  desperate  by  this  public  dis- 
grace ;  I  tremble  to  think  what  this  event  may  cost  my 
friend,  his  mother.  Of  the  pain  it  has  cost  me  I  will  not 
speak  — ' ' 

"Madam,"  interrupted  Mr.  Arnot  harshly,  "permit 
me  to  say  that  this  is  an  affair  concerning  which  a  senti- 
mental woman  can  have  no  correct  understanding.  I 
propose  to  carry  on  my  business  in  the  way  which  ex- 
perience ha.s  taught  me  is  wise,  and,  with  all  respect  to 


A   MEMORABLE  MEETING.  107 

yourself,  I  would  suggest  that  in  these  matters  of  business 
I  am  in  my  own  province." 

The  ashen  hue  deepened  upon  Mrs.  Arnot's  face,  but 
she  answered  quietly  : 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  overstep  the  bounds  which  should 
justly  limit  my  action  and  my  interest  in  this  matter. 
You  will  also  do  me  the  justice  to  remember  that  I  have 
never  interfered  in  your  business,  and  have  rarely  asked 
you  about  it,  though  in  the  world's  estimation  I  would 
have  some  right  to  do  so.  But  if  such  harshness,  if  such 
disastrous  cruelty,  is  necessary  to  your  business,  I  must 
withdraw  my  means  from  it,  for  I  could  not  receive 
money  stained,  as  it  were,  with  blood.  But  of  this  here- 
after. I  will  now  telegraph  Mrs.  Haldane  to  come  di- 
rectly to  our  house  — " 

"  To  our  house  !  "  cried  Mr.  Arnot,  perfectly  aghast. 

"  Certainly.  Can  you  suppose  that,  burdened  with 
this  intolerable  disgrace,  she  could  endure  the  publicity 
of  a  hotel?  I  shall  next  visit  Haldane,  for  as  I  saw  hin-^ 
in  the  street,  with  the  rabble  following,  he  looked  desper- 
ate enough  to  destroy  himself." 

"Now,  1  protest  against  all  this  weak  sentimentality, "^ 
said  Mr.  Arnot,  rising.  "  You  take  sides  with  a  robber 
against  your  husband." 

"  I  do  not  make  light  of  Haldane's  offense  to  you,  and 
certainly  shall  not  to  him.  But  it  is  his  first  offense,  as 
far  as  we  know,  and,  though  you  have  not  seen  fit  to  in- 
form me  of  the  circumstances,  I  cannot  believe  that  he 
committed  a  cool,  deliberate  theft.  He  could  have  been 
made  to  feel  his  guilt  without  being  crushed.  The  very 
gravity  of  his  wrong  action  might  have  awakened  him 
to  his  danger,  and  have  been  the  turning-point  of  his 
life.  He  should  have  had  at  least  one  chance — God 
gives  us  many." 

"Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Arnot  impatiently,  "let  his 
mother  return  the  money,  and  1  will  not  prosecute.     But 


108   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

why  need  Mrs.  Haldane  come  to  Hillaton?  All  can  be 
arranged  by  her  lawyer." 

"  You  know  little  of  a  mother's  feelings  if  you  can  sup- 
pose she'will  not  come  instantly." 

"  Well,  then,  when  the  money  is  paid  she  can  take 
him  home,  that  is,  after  the  forms  of  law  are  complied 
with." 

"  But  he  must  remain  in  prison  till  the  money  is 
paid  1 ' ' 

"  Certainly." 

"You  intimated  that  if  any  one  went  bail  for  him  he 
need  not  go  to  prison.     I  will  become  his  security." 

"  O  nonsense  !     I  might  as  well  give  bail  myself." 

"  Has  he  reached  the  prison  yet  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  he  has,"  replied  Mr.  Arnot,  taking  care  to 
give  no  hint  of  the  prehminary  examination,  for  it  would 
have  annoyed  him  excessively  to  have  his  wife  appear  at  a 
pohce  court  almost  in  the  light  of  an  antagonist  to  him- 
self. And  yet  his  stubborn  pride  would  not  permit  him  to 
yield,  and  carry  out  with  considerate  delicacy  the  merci- 
ful policy  upon  which  he  saw  she  was  bent. 

"Good  morning,"  said  his  wife  very  quietly,  and  she 
at  once  left  her  husband's  private  room.  Laura  rose 
from  her  chair  in  the  outer  office  and  welcomed  her 
gladly,  for,  in  her  nervous  trepidation,  the  minutes  had 
seemed  like  hours.  Mrs.  Arnot  went  to  a  telegraph  of- 
fice, and  sent  the  following  dispatch  to  Mrs.  Haldane  : 

"  Come  to  my  house  at  once.  Your  son  is  well,  but 
has  met  with  misfortune." 

She  then,  with  Laura,  returned  immediately  home  and 
ordered  her  carriage  for  a  visit  to  the  prison.  She  also 
remembered  with  provident  care  that  the  young  man 
could  not  have  tasted  food  that  morning. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

OUR    KNIGHT    IN   JAIL. 

As  Haldane  emerged  from  the  office  into  the  open 
glare  of  the  street,  he  was  oppressed  with  such  an  intol- 
erable sense  of  shame  that  he  became  sick  and  faint, 
and  tottered  against  the  policeman,  who  took  no  other 
notice  of  his  condition  than  the  utterance  of  a  jocular 
remark : 

"You  haven't  got  over  your  drunk  yet,  I'm  athink- 
ing." 

Haldane  made  no  reply,  and  the  physical  weakness 
gradually  passed  away.  As  his  stunned  and  bewildered 
mind  regained  the  power  to  act,  he  became  conscious  of 
a  morbid  curiosity  to  see  how  he  was  regarded  by  those 
whom  he  met.  He  knew  that  their  manner  would  pierce 
like  sword-thrusts,  and  yet  every  scornful  or  averted  face 
had  a  cruel  fascination. 

With  a  bitterness  of  which  his  young  heart  had  never 
before  had  even  a  faint  conception,  he  remembered  that 
this  cold  and  contemptuous,  this  scoffing  and  jeering 
world  was  the  same  in  which  only  yesterday  he  proposed 
to  tower  in  such  lofty  grandeur  that  the  maiden  who  had 
slighted  him  should  be  consumed  with  vain  regret  in 
memory  of  her  lost  opportunity.  He  had,  indeed,  gained 
eminence  speedily.  All  the  town  was  hearing  of  him  ; 
but  the  pedestal  which  lifted  him  so  high  was  composed 
equally  of  crime  and  folly,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  might 
stand  as  a  monument  of  shame. 

But  his  grim  and  legal  guardians  tramped  along  in  the 
most  stohd  and  indifferent  manner.     The  gathering  rab- 


110   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ble  at  their  heels  had  no  terror  for  them.  Indeed,  they 
rather  enjoyed  parading  before  respectable  citizens  this 
dangerous  substratum  of  society.  It  was  a  delicate  way 
of  saying,  "  Behold  in  these  your  peril,  and  in  us  your 
defense.  We  are  necessary  to  your  peace  and  security. 
Respect  us  and  pay  us  well." 

They  represented  the  majesty  of  the  law,  which  could 
lay  its  strong  hand  on  high  and  low  alike,  and  the  pub- 
licity which  was  like  a  scorching  fire  to  Haldane  brought 
honor  to  them. 

Although  the  journey  seemed  interminable  to  the  cul- 
prit, they  were  not  long  in  reaching  the  police  court, 
where  the  magistrate  presiding  had  already  entered  on 
his  duties.  All  night  long,  and  throughout  the  entire 
city  the  scavengers  of  the  law  had  been  at  work,  and 
now  as  a  result,  every  miserable  atom  of  humanity  that 
had  made  itself  a  pestilential  offense  to  society  was  gath- 
ered here  to  be  disposed  of  according  to  sanatory  moral 
rules. 

Hillaton  was  a  comparatively  well-behaved  and  decor- 
ous city  ;  but  in  every  large  community  there  is  always  a 
certain  amount  of  human  sediment,  and  Haldane  felt  that 
he  had  fallen  low  indeed,  when  he  found  himself  classed 
and  huddled  with  miserable  objects  whose  existence  he 
had  never  before  realized.  Near  him  stood  men  who 
apparently  had  barely  enough  humanity  left  to  make 
their  dominating  animal  natures  more  dangerous  and 
difficult  to  control.  To  the  instincts  of  a  beast  was  added 
something  of  a  man's  intelligence,  but  so  developed  that 
it  was  often  little  more  than  cunning.  If,  Avhen  throwing 
away  his  manhood,  man  becomes  a  creature  more  to  be 
dreaded  than  a  beast  or  venomous  reptile,  whichever  he 
happens  most  to  resemble,  woman,  parting  with  her 
womanhood,  scarcely  finds  her  counterpart  even  in  the 
most  noxious  forms  of  earthly  existence.  She  becomes, 
in  her  perversion,  something  that  is  unnatural  and  mon- 


OUR   KNIGHT  IN  JAIL.  Ill 

strous  ;  something,  so  opposite  to  the  Creator's  design, 
as  to  suggest  it  only  in  caricature,  or,  more  often,  in 
fiendish  mockery.  The  Gorgons,  Sirens,  and  Harpies  of 
the  ancients  are  scarcely  myths,  for  their  fabled  forms 
only  too  accurately  portray,  not  the  superficial  and  tran- 
sient outward  appearance,  but  the  enduring  character 
within. 

Side  by  side  with  Haldane  stood  a  creature  whose  di- 
sheveled, rusty  hair,  blotched  and  bloated  features, 
wanton,  cunning,  restless  eyes,  combined  perfectly  to 
form  the  head  of  the  mythological  Harpy.  It  required 
httle  effort  of  the  imagination  to  believe  that  her  foul, 
bedraggled  dress  concealed  the  "  wings  and  talons  of  the 
vulture."  Being  still  unsteady  from  her  night's  debauch, 
she  leaned  against  the  young  man,  and  when  he  shrank 
in  loathing  away,  she,  to  annoy  him,  clasped  him  in  her 
arms,  to  the  uproarious  merriment  of  the  miscellaneous 
crowd  that  is  ever  present  at  a  police  court.  Haldane 
broke  away  from  her  grasp  with  such  force  as  to  make 
quite  a  commotion,  and  at  the  same  time  said  loudly  and 
fiercely  to  the  officer  who  had  arrested  him  : 

"  You  may  have  the  power  to  take  me  to  jail,  but  you 
have  not,  and  shall  not  have,  the  right  nor  the  power  to 
subject  me  to  such  indignities." 

"Silence  there!  Keep  order  in  the  court!"  com- 
manded the  judge. 

The  officer  removed  his  prisoner  a  little  farther  apart 
from  the  others,  growling  as  he  did  so  : 

"If  you  don't  like  your  company,  you  should  have 
kept  out  of  it." 

Even  in  his  overwhelming  anxiety  and  distress  Hal- 
dane could  not  forbear  giving  a  few  curious  glances  at 
his  companions.  He  had  dropped  out  of  his  old  world 
into  a  new  one,  and  these  were  its  inhabitants.  In  their 
degradation  and  misery  he  seemed  to  see  himself  and  his 
future  reflected.     What  had  the  policeman  said  ?— "  Your 


112  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

company,"  and  with  a  keener  pang  than  he  had  yet  ex- 
perienced he  reahzed  that  this  was  his  company,  that  he 
/  now  belonged  to  the  criminal  classes.  He  who  yester- 
'  day  had  the  right  to  speak  to  Laura  Romeyn,  was  now 
''  herded  with  drunkards,  thieves,  and  prostitutes  ;  he  who 
yesterday  could  enter  Mrs.  Arnot's  parlor,  might  now  as 
easily  enter  heaven.  As  the  truth  of  his  situation  grad- 
ually dawned  upon  him,  he  felt  as  if  an  icy  hand  were 
closing  upon  his  heart. 

But  little  time,  however,  was  given  him  for  observa- 
tion or  bitter  revery.  With  the  rapid  and  routine-like 
manner  of  one  made  both  callous  and  expert  by  long  ex- 
perience, the  magistrate  was  sorting  and  disposing  of  the 
miserable  waifs.  Now  he  has  before  him  the  inmates  of 
a  "disorderly  house,"  upon  which  a  "raid"  had  been 
made  the  previous  night.  What  is  that  fair  young  girl 
with  blue  eyes  doing  among  those  coarse-featured  human 
dregs,  her  companions  ?  She  looks  like  a  white  hly  that 
has  been  dropped  into  a  puddle.  Perhaps  that  delicate 
and  attractive  form  is  but  a  disguise  for  the  Harpy's 
wings  and  claws.  Perhaps  a  gross,  bestial  spirit  is 
masked  by  her  oval  Madonna-like  face.  Perhaps  she  is 
the  victim  of  one  upon  whom  God  will  wreak  His  venge- 
ance forever,  though  society  has  for  Him  scarcely  a 
frown. 

The  puddle  is  suddenly  drained  off  into  some  law-or- 
dained receptacle,  and  the  white  lily  is  swept  away  with 
it.  She  will  not  long  suggest  a  flower  that  has  been 
dropped  into  the  gutter.  The  stains  upon  her  soul  wili 
creep  up  into  her  face,  and  make  her  hideous  like  the 
rest. 

The  case  of  Egbert  Haldane  was  next  called.  As  the 
policeman  had  said,  his  own  admissions  were  now  used 
against  him,  for  the  confidential  clerk,  and,  if  there  was 
need,  the  broken-nosed  reporter  were  on  hand  to  testify 
to  all  that  had  been  said.     The  young  man  made  no  at« 


OUR  KNIGHT  IX  JAIL.  113 

tempt  to  conceal,  but  tried  to  explain  more  fully  the  cir- 
cumstances which  led  to  the  act,  hoping  that  in  them  the 
justice  would  find  such  extenuating  elements  as  would 
prevent  a  committal  to  prison. 

The  judge  recognized  and  openly  acknowledged  the 
fact  that  it  was  not  a  case  of  deliberate  wrong-doing,  and 
he  ordered  the  arrest  of  the  superior  young  gentleman 
who  had  introduced  the  New  York  gamblers  to  their 
victim  ;  and  yet  in  the  eye  of  the  law  it  was  a  clear  case 
of  embezzlement ;  and,  as  Mr.  Arnot's  friend,  the  mag- 
istrate felt  httle  disposition  to  prevent  things  from  taking 
their  usual  course.  The  prisoner  must  either  furnish  bail 
at  once,  or  be  committed  until  he  could  do  so,  or  until  the 
case  could  be  properly  tried.  As  Haldane  was  a  com- 
parative stranger  in  Hillaton  there  was  no  one  to  whom 
he  felt  he  could  apply,  and  he  supposed  it  would  require 
some  little  time  for  his  mother  to  arrange  the  matter. 
Upon  his  signifying  that  he  could  not  furnish  bail  imme- 
diately, the  judge  promptly  ordered  his  committal  to  the 
common  jail  of  the  city,  which  happened  to  be  at  some 
distance  from  the  building  then  employed  for  the  pre- 
liminary examinations. 

It  was  while  on  his  way  to  this  place  of  detention  that 
he  heard  Mrs.  Arnot's  voice,  and  encountered  her  eyes 
and  those  of  Laura  Romeyn.  His  first  impulse  was  to 
end  both  his  suffering  and  himself  by  some  desperate 
act,  but  he  was  powerless  even  to  harm  himself. 

The  limit  of  endurance,  however,  had  been  reached. 
The  very  worst  that  he  could  imagine  had  befallen  him. 
Laura  Romeyn  had  looked  upon  his  unutterable  shame 
and  disgrace.  From  a  quivering  and  almost  agonizing 
sensibility  to  his  situation  he  reacted  into  sullen  indiffer- 
ence. He  no  longer  saw  the  sun  shining  in  the  sky,  nor 
the  familiar  sights  of  the  street  ;  he  no  longer  heard  nor 
heeded  the  jeering  rabble  that  came  tramping  after.  He 
became  for  the  time  scarcely  more  than  a  piece  of  mech- 


114    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

anism,  that  barely  retained  the  power  of  voluntary  mo- 
tion, but  had  lost  ability  to  feel  and  think.  When,  at 
last,  he  entered  his  narrow  cell,  eight  feet  by  eight,  the 
wish  half  formed  itself  in  his  mind  that  it  was  six  feet  by- 
two,  and  that  he  might  hide  in  it  forever. 

He  sat  down  on  the  rough  wooden  couch  which  formed 
the  only  furniture  of  the  room,  and  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands,  conscious  only  of  a  dull,  leaden  weight  of  pain. 
He  made  no  effort  to  obtain  legal  counsel  or  to  commu- 
nicate his  situation  to  his  mother.  Indeed,  he  dreaded 
to  see  her,  and  he  felt  that  he  could  not  look  his  sisters 
in  the  face  again.  The  prison  cell  seemed  a  refuge  from 
the  terrible  scorn  of  the  world,  and  his  present  impulse 
was  to  cower  behind  its  thick  walls  for  the  rest  of  his 
life. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
Ml.  arnot's  system  works  badly. 

Mr.  Arnot  was  so  disturbed  by  his  wife's  visit  that  he 
found  it  impossible  to  return  to  the  routine  of  business, 
and,  instead  of  maintaining  the  cold,  lofty  bearing  of  a 
man  whose  imperious  will  awed  and  controlled  all  within 
its  sphere,  he  fumed  up  and  down  his  office  like  one  who 
had  been  caught  in  the  toils  himself.  In  the  morning  it 
had  seemed  that  there  could  not  have  been  a  fairer  op- 
portunity to  vindicate  his  iron  system,  and  make  it  irre- 
sistible. The  offending  subject  in  his  business  realm 
should  receive  due  punishment,  and  all  the  rest  be  taught 
that  they  were  governed  by  inexorable  laws,  which  would 
be  executed  with  the  certainty  and  precision  with  which 
the  wheels  moved  in  a  great  factory  under  the  steady  im- 
pulse of  the  motor  power.  But  the  whole  matter  now 
bade  fair  to  end  in  a  tangled  snarl,  whose  final  issue  no 
one  could  foretell. 

He  was  sensitive  to  pubHc  opinion,  and  had  supposed 
that  his  course  would  be  upheld  and  applauded,  and  he 
be  commended  as  a  conservator  of  public  morals.  He 
now  feared,  however,  that  he  would  be  portrayed  as 
harsh,  grasping,  and  unfeeling.  It  did  not  trouble  him 
that  he  was  so,  but  that  he  would  be  made  to  appear  so. 

But  his  wife's  words  in  reference  to  the  withdrawal  of 
her  large  property  from  his  business  was  a  far  more 
serious  consideration.  He  had  learned  how  resolute  and 
unswerving  she  could  be  in  matters  of  conscience,  and 
he  knew  that  she  was  not  in  the  habit  of  making  idle 
threats  in  moments  of  irritation.  If,  just  at  this  time, 
when  he  was  widely  extending  his  business,  she  should 
115 


116  kniOht  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

demand  a  separate  investment  of  her  means,  it  would 
embarrass  and  cripple  him  in  no  slight  degree.  If  this 
should  be  one  of  the  results  of  his  master-stroke,  he  would 
have  reason  to  curse  his  briUiant  policy  all  his  days.  He 
would  now  be  only  too  glad  to  get  rid  of  the  Haldane 
affair  on  any  terms,  for  thus  far  it  had  proved  only  a 
source  of  annoyance  and  mortification.  He  was  some- 
what consoled,  however,  when  his  confidential  clerk 
returned  and  intimated  that  the  examination  before  the 
justice  had  been  brief;  that  Haldane  had  eagerly  stated 
his  case  to  the  justice,  but  when  that  dignitary  remarked 
that  it  was  a  clear  case  of  embezzlement,  and  that  he 
would  have  to  commit  the  prisoner  unless  some  one  went 
security  for  his  future  appearance,  the  young  fellow  had 
grown  sullen  and  answered,  "Send  me  to  jail  then;  I 
have  no  friends  in  this  accursed  city." 

To  men  of  the  law  and  of  sense  the  case  was  as  clear 
as  daylight. 

But  Mr.  Arnot  was  not  by  any  means  through  with  his 
disagreeable  experiences.  He  had  been  a  manufacturer 
sufficiently  long  to  know  that  when  a  piece  of  machinery 
is  set  in  motion,  not  merely  the  wheels  nearest  to  one  will 
move,  but  also  others  that  for  the  moment  may  be  out  of 
sight.  He  who  proposes  to  have  a  decided  influence 
upon  a  fellow-creature's  destiny  should  remember  our 
complicated  relations,  for  he  cannot  lay  his  strong  grasp 
upon  one  life  without  becoming  entangled  in  the  interests 
of  many  others. 

Mr.  Arnot  was  finding  this  out  to  his  cost,  for  he  had 
hardly  composed  himself  to  his  writing  again  before  there 
was  a  rustle  of  a  lady's  garments  in  the  outer  office,  and 
a  hasty  step  across  the  threshold  of  his  private  sanctum. 
Looking  up,  he  saw,  to  his  dismay,  the  pale,  frightened 
face  of  Mrs.  Haldane. 

"Where  is  Egbert? — where  is  my  son?"  she  asked 
abruptly. 


MB.    ARNOrS  SYSTEM   WORKS  BADLY.      117 

At  that  moment  Mr.  Arnot  admitted  to  himself  that  he 
had  never  been  asked  so  embarrassing  a  question  in  all 
his  life.  Before  him  was  his  wife's  friend,  a  lady  of  the 
highest  social  rank,  and  she  was  so  unmistakably  a  lady 
that  he  could  treat  her  with  only  the  utmost  deference. 
He  saw  with  alarm  himself  the  mother's  nervous  and 
trembling  apprehension,  for  there  was  scarcely  any  thing 
under  heaven  that  he  would  not  rather  face  than  a  scene 
with  a  hysterical  woman.  If  this  was  to  be  the  climax 
of  his  policy  he  would  rather  have  lost  the  thousand  dol- 
lars than  have  had  it  occur.  Rising  from  his  seat,  he 
said  awkwardly  : 

"  Really,  madam,  I  did  not  expect  you  here  this  morn- 
ing ?  " 

"  I  was  on  my  way  to  New  York,  and  decided  to  stop 
and  give  my  son  a  surprise.  But  this  paper — this  dread- 
ful report — what  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,  madam,  it  is  all  too  true,''  replied 
Mr,  Arnot  uneasily.  "Please  take  a  chair,  or  perhaps 
it  would  be  better  for  you  to  go  at  once  to  our  house  and 
see  Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  added,  now  glad  to  escape  the  inter- 
view on  any  terms. 

"  What  is  too  true  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  see  Mrs.  Arnot ;  she  will  ex- 
plain," said  the  unhappy  man,  who  felt  that  his  system 
was  tumbling  in  chaos  about  his  ears.  "  Let  me  assist 
you  to  your  carriage." 

"  Do  you  think  I  can  endure  the  suspense  of  another 
moment?     In  mercy  speak — tell  me  the  worst !  " 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Arnot,  with  a  shiver  like  that  of  one 
about  to  plunge  into  a  cold  bath,  "  I  suppose  you  will 
learn  sooner  or  later  that  your  son  has  committed  a  very 
wrong  act.  But,"  he  added  hastily,  on  seeing  Mrs.  Hal- 
dane's  increasing  pallor,  "  there  are  extenuating  circum- 
stances—at least,  I  shall  act  as  if  there  were." 

"But  what   has   he   done— where  is  he?"  cried  the 


118   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

mother  in  agony.  Then  she  added  in  a  frightened  whis- 
per, "  But  the  matter  can  be  hushed  up — there  need  be  no 
pubhcity— O,  that  would  kill  me  !     Please  take  steps — " 

"Mr,  Arnot,"  said  a  young  man  just  entering,  and 
speaking  in  a  piping,  penetrating  voice,  "  I  represent  the 
Evening  Spy.  I  wish  to  obtain  from  you  for  publication 
the  particulars  of  this  disgraceful  affair."  Then,  seeing 
Mrs.  Haldane,  who  had  dropped  her  vail,  and  was  trem- 
bling violently,  he  added,  "  I  hope  I  am  not  intruding  ; 
I—" 

"  Yes,  sir,  you  are  intruding,"  said  Mr.  Arnot  harshly. 

"  Then,  perhaps,  sir,  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  step  out- 
side for  a  moment.  I  can  take  down  your  words  rapidly, 
and — " 

"  Step  outside  yourself,  sir.  I  have  nothing  whatever 
to  say  to  you." 

"  I  beg  you  to  reconsider  that  decision,  sir.  Of  course, 
a  full  account  of  the  affair  must  appear  in  this  even- 
ing's Spy.  It  will  be  your  own  fault  if  it  is  not  true  in 
all  respects.  It  is  said  that  you  have  acted  harshly  in 
the  matter — that  it  was  young  Haldane' s  first  offense, 
and — " 

"  Leave  my  office  !  "  thundered  Mr.  Arnot. 

The  lynx-eyed  reporter,  while  speaking  thus  rapidly, 
had  been  scrutinizing  the  vailed  and  trembling  lady,  and 
he  was  scarcely  disappointed  that  she  now  rose  hastily, 
and  threw  back  her  vail  as  she  said  eagerly, 

"  Why  must  the  whole  affair  be  pubhshed  ?  You  say 
truly  that  his  offense,  whatever  it  is,  is  his  first.  Surely 
the  editor  of  your  paper  will  not  be  so  cruel  as  to  blast  a 
young  man  forever  with  disgrace  !  " 

"  Mrs.  Haldane,  I  presume,"  said  the  reporter,  tracing 
a  few  hieroglyphics  in  his  note-book. 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  lady,  speaking  from  the  impulse 
of  her  heart,  rather  than  from  any  correct  knowledge  of 
the  world,  "  and  I  will  pay  willingly  any  amount  to  have 


MR.    ARNOT'S  SYSTE3I   WORKS  BADLY.      119 

the  whole  matter  quietly  dropped.  I  could  not  endure 
any  thing  of  this  kind,  for  I  have  no  husband  to  shelter 
me,  and  the  boy  has  no  father  to  protect  him." 

Mr.  Arnot  groaned  in  spirit  that  he  had  not  considered 
this  case  in  any  of  its  aspects  save  those  which  related  to 
his  business.  He  had  formed  the  habit  of  regarding  all 
other  considerations  as  unworthy  of  attention,  but  here, 
certainly,  was  a  most  disagreeable  exception. 

"You  touch  my  feelings  deeply,"  said  the  reporter,  in 
a  tone  that  never  for  a  second  lost  its  professional  ca- 
dence, "  but  I  much  regret  that  your  hopes  cannot  be 
realized.  Your  son's  act  could  scarcely  be  kept  a  secret 
after  the  fact — known  to  all — that  he  has  been  openly 
dragged  to  prison  through  the  streets,"  and  the  gatherer 
of  news  and  sensations  kept  an  eye  on  each  of  his  victims 
as  he  made  this  statement.  A  cabalistic  sign  in  his  note- 
book indicated  the  visible  wincing  of  the  enraged  and 
half-distracted  manufacturer,  whose  system  was  like  an 
engine  off  the  track,  hissing  and  helpless  ;  and  a  few 
other  equally  obscure  marks  suggested  to  the  initiated 
the  lady's  words  as  she  half  shrieked  : 

"  My  son  dragged  through  the  streets  to  prison  !  By 
w^hom — who  could  do  so  dreadful?" — and  she  sank 
shudderingly  into  a  chair,  and  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands,  as  if  to  shut  out  a  harrowing  vision. 

"  I  regret  to  say,  madam,  that  it  w-as  by  a  policeman," 
added  the  reporter.    ' 

"  And  thither  a  policeman  shall  drag  you,  if  you  do  not 
instantly  vacate  these  premises  !  "  said  Mr.  Arnot,  hoarse 
with  rage. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  courtesy,"  answered  the  reporter, 
shutting  his  book  with  a  snap  like  that  of  a  steel  trap.  "  I 
have  now  about  all  the  points  I  wish  to  get  here.  I  un- 
derstand that  Mr.  Patrick  M'Cabe  is  no  longer  under  any 
obligations  to  you,  and  from  him  I  can  learn  additional 
particulars.     Good  morning." 


120   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Yes,  go  to  that  unsullied  source  of  truth,  whom  I  have 
just  discharged  for  lying  and  disobedience.  Go  to  per- 
dition, also,  if  you  please  ;  but  take  yourself  out  of  my 
office,"  said  Mr.  Arnot  recklessly,  for  he  was  growing 
desperate  from  the  unexpected  complications  of  the  case. 
Then  he  summoned  one  of  his  clerks,  and  said  in  a  tone 
of  authority,  "  Take  this  lady  to  my  residence,  and  leave 
her  in  the  care  of  Mrs.  Arnot," 

Mrs.  Haldane  rose  unsteadily,  and  tottered  toward  the 
door. 

"No,"  said  she  bitterly  ;  "  I  may  faint  in  the  street, 
but  I  will  not  go  to  your  house." 

"  Then  assit  the  lady  to  her  carriage  ;  "  and  Mr.  Arnot 
turned  the  key  of  his  private  office  with  muttered  impre- 
cations upon  the  whole  wretched  affair. 

"Whither  shall  I  tell  the  man  to  drive?"  asked  the 
clerk,  after  Mrs.  Haldane  had  sunk  back  exhausted  on 
the  seat. 

The  lady  put  her  hand  to  her  brow,  and  tried  to  collect 
her  distracted  thoughts,  and,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, said, 

•'  To  the  prison." 

The  carriage  containing  Mrs.  Haldane  stopped  at  last 
before  the  gloomy  massive  building,  the  upper  part  of 
which  was  used  as  a  court-room  and  offices  for  city  and 
county  officials,  while  in  the  basercient  were  constructed 
the  cells  of  the  prison.  It  required  a  desperate  effort  on 
the  part  of  the  timid  and  delicate  lady,  who  for  years  had 
almost  been  a  recluse  from  the  world,  to  sum.mon  courage 
to  alight  and  approach  a  place  that  to  her  abounded  in 
many  and  indefinite  horrors.  She  was  too  preoccupied 
to  observe  that  another  carriage  had  drawn  up  to  the  en- 
trance, and  the  first  intimation  that  she  had  of  Mrs.  Ar- 
not's  presence  occurred  when  that  lady  took  her  hand  in 
the  shadow  of  the  porch,  and  said, 

"  Mrs.  Haldane,   I   am  greatly   surprised  to  see  you 


ME.   ABNOT'S  SYSTEM   WORKS  BADLY.     121 

here  ;  but  you  can  rely  upon  me  as  a  true  friend  through- 
out this  trial.     I  shall  do  all  in  my  power  to — " 

After  the  first  violent  start  caused  by  her  disturbed 
nervous  condition,  Mrs.  Haldane  asked,  in  a  reproachful 
and  almost  passionate  tone, 

"  Why  did  you  not  prevent — "  and  then  she  hesitated, 
as  if  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  utter  the  concluding 
words. 

"I  could  not;  I  did  not  know  ;  but  since  I  heard  I 
have  been  doing  every  thing  in  my  power." 

"  It  was  your  husband  who — " 

"Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Arnot,  sadly,  completing  in 
thought  her  friend's  unfinished  sentence.  "  But  I  had  no 
part  in  the  act,  and  no  knowledge  of  it  until  a  short  time 
since.  I  am  now  doing  all  I  can  to  procure  your  son's 
speedy  release.  My  husband's  action  has  been  perfectly 
legal,  and  we,  who  would  temper  justice  with  mercy, 
must  do  so  in  a  legal  way.  Permit  me  to  introduce  you 
to  my  friend,  Mr.  Melville.  He  can  both  advise  us  and 
carry  out  such  arrangements  as  are  necessary;"  and 
Mrs.  Haldane  saw  that  Mrs.  Arnot  was  accompanied  by 
a  gentleman,  whom  in  her  distress  she  had  not  hitherto 
noticed. 

The  janitor  now  opened  the  door,  and  ushered  them 
into  a  very  plain  apartment,  used  both  as  an  oftice  and 
reception-room.  Mrs.  Haldane  was  so  overcome  by  her 
emotion  that  her  friend  led  her  to  a  chair,  and  continued 
her  reassuring  words  in  a  low  voice  designed  for  her  ears 
alone  : 

"  Mr.  Melville  is  a  lawyer,  and  knows  how  to  manage 
these  matters.  You  may  trust  him  implicitly.  I  will  give 
security  for  your  son's  future  appearance,  should  it  be 
necessary,  and  I  am  quite  satisfied  it  will  not  be,  as  my 
husband  has  promised  me  that  he  will  not  prosecute  if 
the  money  is  refunded." 

"  I  would  have  paid  ten  times  the  amount — any  thing 


122   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

rather  than  have  suffered  this  public  disgrace,"  sobbed 
the  poor  woman,  who,  true  to  her  instincts  and  hfe-long 
habit  of  thought,  dwelt  more  upon  the  consequent  shame 
of  her  son's  act  than  its  moral  character, 

"  Mr.  Melville  says  he  will  give  bail  in  his  own  name 
for  me,"  resumed  Mrs.  Arnot,  "as,  of  course,  I  do  not 
-wish  to  appear  to  be  acting  in  opposition  to  my  husband. 
Indeed,  I  am  not,  for  he  is  willing  that  some  such  an  ar- 
rangement should  be  made.  He  has  very  many  in  his 
employ,  and  feels  that  he  must  be  governed  by  rigid 
rules.  Mr.  Melville  assures  me  that  he  can  speedily 
effect  Egbert's  release.  Perhaps  it  will  save  you  pain  to 
go  at  once  to  our  house  and  meet  your  son  there." 

"  No,"  replied  the  mother,  rising,  "  I  wish  to  see  him 
at  once.  I  do  appreciate  your  kindness,  but  I  cannot  go 
to  the  place  which  shelters  your  husband.  I  can  never 
forgive  him.  Nor  can  I  go  to  a  hotel.  I  viould  rather 
5tay  in  this  prison  until  I  can  hide  myself  and  my  miser- 
able son  in  our  own  home.  O,  how  dark  and  dreadful 
are  God's  ways!  To  think  that  the  boy  that  I  had 
brought  up  in  the  Church,  as  it  were,  should  show  such 
unnatural  depravity  !  "  Then,  stepping  to  the  door,  she 
said  to  the  under-sheriff  in  waiting,  "  Please  take  me  to 
my  son  at  once,  if  possible." 

"Would  you  like  me  to  go  with  you?"  asked  >klrs. 
Arnot,  gently. 

"  Yes,  yes!  for  I  may  faint  on  the  way.  O,  how  dif- 
ferently this  day  is  turning  out  from  what  I  expected  !  I 
was  in  hopes  that  Egbert  could  join  me  in  a  httle  trip  to 
New  York,  and  I  find  him  in  prison  !  " 


CHAPTER  XV. 

haldane's  resolve. 

It  was  not  in  accordance  with  nature  nor  with  Hal- 
dane's pecuhar  temperament  that  he  should  remain  long 
under  a  stony  paralysis  of  shame  and  despair.  Though 
tall  and  manlike  in  appearance,  he  was  not  a  man. 
Boyish  traits  and  impulses  still  lingered  ;  indeed,  they 
had  been  fostered  and  maintained  longer  than  usual  by 
a  fond  and  indulgent  mother.  It  was  not  an  evidence  of 
weakness,  but  rather  a  wholesome  instinct  of  nature,  that 
his  thoughts  should  gradually  find  courage  to  go  to  that 
mother  as  his  only  source  of  comfort  and  help.  She,  at 
least,  would  not  scorn  him,  and  with  her  he  might  find  a 
less  dismal  refuge  than  his  narrow  cell,  should  it  be  pos- 
sible to  escape  imprisonment.  If  it  were  not,  he  was  too. 
young  and  unacquainted  with  misfortune  not  to  long  for 
a  few  kind  words  of  comfort. 

He  did  not  even  imagine  that  Mrs.  Arnot,  the  wife  of 
his  employer,  would  come  near  him  in  his  deep  disgrace. 
Even  the  thought  of  her  kindness  and  his  requital  of  it 
now  stung  him  to  the  quick,  and  he  fairly  writhed  as  he 
pictured  to  himself  the  scorn  that  must  have  been  on 
Laura's  face  as  she  saw  him  on  his  way  to  prison  like  a 
common  thief. 

As  he  remembered  how  full  of  rich  promise  life  was 
but  a  few  days  since,  and  how  all  had  changed  even 
more  swiftly  and  unexpectedly  than  the  grotesque  events 
of  a  horrid  dream,  he  bowed  his  head  in  his  hands  and 
sobbed  like  a  grief-stricken  child. 

"O  mother,  mother,"  he  groaned,  "if  I  could  only 
123 


124   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

hear  your  voice  and  feel  your  touch,  a  little  of  this  crush- 
ing weight  might  be  lifted  off  my  heart !  " 

Growing  calmer  after  a  time,  he  was  able  to  consider 
his  situation  more  connectedly,  and  he  was  about  to 
summon  the  sheriff  in  charge  of  the  prison,  that  he  might 
telegraph  his  mother,  when  he  heard  her  voice  as,  in  the 
company  of  that  official,  she  was  seeking  her  way  to  him. 

He  shrank  back  in  his  cell.  His  heart  beat  violently 
as  he  heard  the  rustle  of  her  dress.  The  sheriff  unlocked 
the  grated  iron  door  which  led  to  the  long,  narrow  cor- 
ridor into  which  the  cells  opened,  and  to  which  prisoners 
had  access  during  the  day. 

"  He's  in  that  cell,  ladies,"  said  the  officer's  voice,  and 
then,  with  commendable  delicacy,  withdrew,  having  first 
ordered  the  prisoners  in  his  charge  to  their  cells. 

"Lean  upon  my  arm,"  urged  a  gentle  voice,  which 
Haldane  recognized  as  that  of  Mrs.  Arnot. 

"  O,  this  is  awful!"  moaned  the  stricken  woman; 
"  this  is  more  than  /can  endure." 

The  pronoun  she  used  threw  a  chill  on  the  heart  of  her 
son  but  when  she  tottered  to  the  door  of  his  cell  he 
sprang  forward,  with  the  low,  appealing  cry, 

"  Mother!  " 

But  the  poor  gentlewoman  was  so  overcome  that  she 
sank  down  on  a  bench  by  the  door,  and,  with  her  face 
buried  in  her  hands,  as  if  to  shut  out  a  vision  that  would 
blast  her,  she  rocked  back  and  forth  in  anguish,  as  she 
groaned, 

"  O  Egbert,  Egbert !  you  have  disgraced  me,  you 
have  disgraced  your  sisters,  you  have  disgraced  your- 
self beyond  remedy.  O  God !  what  have  I  done  to 
merit  this  awful,  this  overwhelming  disaster?" 

With  deep  pain  and  solicitude  Mrs,  Arnot  watched  the 
young  man's  face  as  the  light  from  the  grated  window 
fell  upon  it.  The  appeal  that  trembled  in  his  voice  had 
been  more  plainly  manifest  in  his  face,  which  had  worn 


EALDANE'S  RESOLVE.  125 

an  eager  and  hopeful  expression,  and  even  suggested 
the  spirit  of  the  httle  child  when  in  some  painful  emer- 
gency it  turns  to  its  first  and  natural  protector. 

But  most  marked  was  the  change  caused  by  the 
mother's  lamentable  want  of  tact  and  self-control,  for 
that  same  face  became  stony  and  sullen.  Instead  of 
showing  a  spirit  which  deep  distress  and  crushing  dis- 
aster had  made  almost  childUke  in  its  readiness  to  re- 
ceive a  mother's  comfort  once  more,  he  suddenly  became, 
in  appearance,  a  hardened  criminal. 

Mrs.  Arnot  longed  to  undo  by  her  kindness  the  evil 
which  her  friend  was  unwittingly  causing,  but  could  not 
come  between  mother  and  son.  She  stooped  down, 
however,  and  whispered, 

"Mrs.  Haldane,  speak  kindly  to  your  boy.  He  looked 
to  you  for  sympathy.  Do  not  let  him  feel  that  you,  like 
the  world,  are  against  him." 

"O  no,"  said  Mrs.  Haldane,  her  sobs  ceasing  some- 
what, "  I  mean  to  do  my  duty  by  him.  He  shall  always 
have  a  good  home,  but  oh  !  what  a  blight  and  a  shadow 
he  has  brought  to  that  home  !  That  I  should  have  ever 
lived  to  see  this  day  !  O  Egbert,  Egbert !  your  sisters 
will  have  to  live  like  nuns,  for  they  can  never  even  go 
out  upon  the  street  again  ;  and  to  think  that  the  finger 
of  scorn  should  be  pointed  after  you  in  the  city  where 
your  father  made  our  name  so  honorable  !  " 

"It  never  shall  be,"  said  Haldane  coldly.  "You 
have  only  to  leave  me  in  prison  to  be  rid  of  me  a  long 
time." 

"Leave  you  in  prison!"  exclaimed  his  mother;  "I 
would  as  soon  stay  here  myself.  No;  through  Mrs. 
Arnot's  kindness,  arrangements  are  made  for  your  re- 
lease. I  shall  then  take  you  to  our  miserable  home  as 
soon  as  possible." 

"  I  am  not  going  home." 

"  Now,  this  is  too  much  !     What  will  you  do? '" 


126   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  I  shall  remain  in  this  city,"  he  rephed,  speaking 
from  an  angry  impulse.  "  It  was  here  I  fell  and  covered 
myself  with  shame,  and  I  shall  here  fight  my  way  back 
to  the  position  I  lost.  The  time  shall  come  when  you 
will  no  longer  say  I'm  a  disgrace  to  you  and  my  sisters. 
My  heart  was  breaking,  and  the  first  word  you  greet  me 
with  is  'disgrace;'  and  if  I  went  home,  disgrace  would 
always  be  in  your  mind,  if  not  upon  your  tongue,  I 
should  have  the  word  and  thought  kept  before  me  till  I 
went  mad.  If  I  go  home  all  my  old  acquaintances  would 
sneer  at  me  as  a  mean-spirited  cur,  whose  best  exploit 
was  to  get  in  jail,  and  when  his  mother  obtained  his  re- 
lease he  could  do  nothing  more  manly  than  hide  behind 
her  apron  the  rest  of  his  days.  As  far  as  I  can  judge, 
you  and  my  sisters  would  have  no  better  opinion  of  me. 
I  have  been  a  wicked  fool,  I  admit,  but  I  was  not  a 
■deliberate  thief.  I  did  hope  for  a  little  comfort  from 
you.  But  sintre  all  the  world  is  against  me,  I'll  face  and 
■fight  the  world.  I  have  been  dragged  through  these 
streets,  the  scorn  of  every  one,  and  I  will  remain  in  this 
city  until  I  compel  the  respect  of  its  proudest  citizen." 

The  moment  he  ceased  his  passionate  utterance,  Mrs. 
Arnot  said  kindly  and  gravely  : 

"  Egbert,  you  are  mistaken.  There  was  no  scorn  in 
my  eyes,  but  rather  deep  pity  and  sorrow.  While  your 
course  has  been  very  wrong,  you  have  no  occasion  to 
despair,  and  as  long  as  you  will  try  to  become  a  true 
man  you  shall  have  my  sympathy  and  friendship.  You 
do  not  understand  your  mother.  She  loves  you  as  truly 
as  ever,  and  is  willing  to  make  any  sacrifice  for  you. 
Only,  her  fuller  knowledge  of  the  world  makes  her  real- 
ize more  truly  than  you  yet  can  the  consequences  of  your 
act.  The  sudden  shock  has  overwhelmed  her.  Her 
distress  sho<\s  how  deeply  she  is  wounded,  and  you 
should  try  to  comfort  her  by  a  lifetime  of  kindness." 

"  The  best  way  I  can  comfort  her  is  by  deeds  that  will 


HALDANE'S  RESOLVE.  127 

wipe  out  the  memory  of  my  disgrace;  and,"  he  con- 
tinued, his  impulsive,  sanguine  spirit  kindhng  with  the 
thought  and  prospect,  "  I  will  regain  all  and  more  than 
I  have  lost.  The  time  shall  come  when  neither  she  nor 
my  sisters  will  have  occasion  to  blush  for  me,  nor  to 
seclude  themselves  from  the  world  because  of  their  rela- 
tion to  me." 

"  I  should  think  my  heart  was  sufficiently  crushed  and 
broken  already,"  Mrs.  Haldane  sobbed,  "without  your 
adding  to  its  burden  by  charging  me  with  being  an  un- 
natural mother.  I  cannot  understand  how  a  boy 
brought  up  as  religiously  as  you  have  been  can  show 
such  strange  depravity.  The  idea  that  a  child  of  mine 
could  do  any  thing  which  would  bring  him  to  such  a  place 
as  this  !  " 

His  mother's  words  and  manner  seemed  to  exasperate 
her  son  beyond  endurance,  and  he  exclaimed  passion- 
ately, 

"Well,  curse  it  all!  I  am  here.  What's  the  use  of 
harping  on  that  any  longer?  Can't  you  hsten  when  I  say 
I  want  to  retrieve  myself?  As  to  my  religious  bringing 
up,  it  never  did  me  a  particle  of  good.  If  you  had 
whipped  my  infernal  nonsense  out  of  me,  and  made  me 
mind  when  I  was  little — There,  there,  mother,"  he  con- 
cluded more  considerately,  as  she  began  to  grow  hyster- 
ical under  his  words,  "  do,  for  God's  sake,  be  more  com- 
posed !  We  can't  help  what  has  happened  now.  I'll 
either  change  the  world's  opinion  of  me,  or  else  get  out 
of  it." 

"  How  can  1  be  composed  when  you  talk  in  so  dread- 
ful a  manner?  You  can't  change  the  world's  opinion. 
It  never  forgives  and  never  forgets.  It's  the  same  as  if 
you  had  said,  I'll  either  do  what  is  impossible  or  throw 
away  my  life  !  " 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Haldane,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  gently, 
but  firmly,  "  your  just  and  natural  grief  is  such  that  you 


128  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

cannot  now  judge  correctly  and  wisely  concerning  this 
matter.  The  emergency  is  so  unexpected  and  so  grave 
that  neither  you  nor  your  son  should  form  opinions  or 
make  resolves  until  there  has  been  time  for  calmer 
thought.  Let  me  take  you  home  with  me  now,  and  as 
soon  as  Egbert  is  released  he  can  join  you  there." 

"  No,  Mrs.  Arnot,"  said  Haldane  decidedly  ;  "  I  shall 
never  enter  your  parlor  again  until  I  can  enter  it  as  a 
gentleman, — as  one  whom  your  other  guests,  should  I 
meet  them,  would  recognize  as  a  gentleman.  Your 
kindness  is  as  great  as  it  is  unexpected,  but  I  shall  take 
no  mean  advantage  of  it." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  with  a  sigh,  "nothing 
can  be  gained  by  prolonging  this  painful  interview.  We 
are  detaining  Mr.  Melville,  and  delaying  Egbert's  re- 
lease. Come,  Mrs.  Haldane ;  I  can  take  you  to  the 
private  entrance  of  a  quiet  hotel,  where  you  can  be  en- 
tirely secluded  until  you  are  ready  to  return  home. 
Egbert  can  come  there  as  soon  as  the  needful  legal 
forms  are  complied  with." 

"No,"  said  the  young  man  with  his  former  decision, 
"mother  and  I  must  take  leave  of  each  other  here. 
Mother  wants  no  jail-birds  calling  on  her  at  the  hotel. 
When  I  have  regained  my  social  footing — when  she  is 
ready  to  take  my  arm  and  walk  up  Main-street  of  this 
city — then  she  shall  see  me  as  often  as  she  wishes.  It 
was  my  own  cursed  folly  that  brought  me  to  the  gutter, 
and  if  mother  will  pay  the  price  of  my  freedom,  I  will 
alone  and  unaided  make  my  way  back  among  the  high- 
est and  proudest." 

"I  sincerely  hope  you  may  win  such  a  position,"  said 
Mrs.  Arnot  gravely,  "  and  it  is  not  impossible  for  you  to 
do  so,  though  I  wish  you  would  make  the  attempt  in  a 
different  spirit  ;  but  please  remember  that  these  consid- 
erations do  not  satisfy  and  comfort  a  mother's  heart. 
You  should  think  of  all  her  past  kindness  ;  you  should 


HALDANE'S  RESOLVE.  129 

realize  how  deeply  you  have  now  wounded  her,  and 
strive  with  tenderness  and  patience  to  mitigate  the  blow." 

"Mother,  I  am  sorry,  more  sorry  than  you  can  ever 
know,"  he  said,  advancing  to  her  side  and  taking  her 
hand,  "  and  I  have  been  bitterly  punished  ;  but  I  did  not 
mean  to  do  what  I  did  ;  I  was  drunk — " 

"  Drunk  !  "  gasped  the  mother,  "  merciful  Heaven  !  " 

*'  Yes,  drunk — may  the  next  drop  of  wine  I  take  choke 
me  ! — and  I  did  not  know  what  I  was  doing.  But  do 
not  despair  of  me.  I  feel  that  I  have  it  in  me  to  make  a 
man  yet.  Go  now  with  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  aid  in  her  kind 
efforts  to  procure  my  release.  When  you  have  suc- 
ceeded, return  home,  and  think  of  me  as  well  as  you  can 
until  I  make  you  think  better,"  and  he  raised  and 
kissed  her  with  something  like  tenderness,  and  then 
placed  within  Mrs.  Arnot' s  arm  the  hand  of  the  poor 
weak  woman,  who  had  become  so  faint  and  exhausted 
from  her  conflicting  emotions  that  she  submitted  to  be 
led  away  after  a  feeble  remonstrance. 

Mrs.  Arnot  sent  Mr.  Melville  to  the  prisoner,  and  also 
the  food  she  had  brought.  She  then  took  Mrs.  Haldane 
to  a  hotel,  where,  in  the  seclusion  of  her  room,  she  could 
have  every  attention  and  comfort.  With  many  reassur- 
ing words  she  promised  to  call  later  in  the  day,  and  if 
possible  bring  with  her  the  unhappy  cause  of  the  poor 
gentlewoman's  distress. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE   IMPULSES   OF    WOUNDED   PRIDE. 

That  which  at  first  was  httle  more  than  an  impulse, 
caused  by  wounded  pride,  speedily  developed  into  a  set- 
tled purpose,  and  Haldane  would  leave  his  prison  cell 
fully  bent  on  achieving  great  things.  In  accordance 
with  a  tendency  in  impulsive  natures,  he  reacted  from 
something  like  despair  into  quite  a  sanguine  and  heroic 
mood.  He  would  "face  and  fight  the  world,  ay,  and 
conquer  it,  too."  He  would  go  out  into  the  streets  which 
had  witnessed  his  disgrace,  and,  penniless,  empty- 
handed,  dowered  only  with  shame,  he  would  prove  his 
manhood  by  winning  a  position  that  would  compel  re- 
spect and  more  than  respect. 

Mrs.  Arnot,  who  returned  immediately  to  the  prison, 
was  puzzled  to  know  how  to  deal  with  him.  She  ap- 
proved of  his  resolution  to  remain  in  Hillaton,  and  of  his 
purpose  to  regain  respect  and  position  on  the  very  spot, 
as  it  were,  where,  by  his  crime  and  folly  he  had  lost  both. 
She  was  satisfied  that  such  a  course  promised  far  better 
for  the  future  than  a  return  to  his  mother's  luxurious 
home.  With  all  its  beauty  and  comfort  it  would  become 
to  him  almost  inevitably  a  slough,  both  of  "  despond  " 
and  of  dissipation — dissipation  of  the  worst  and  most 
hopeless  kind,  wherein  the  victim's  ruling  motive  is  to 
get  rid  of  self.  The  fact  that  the  young  man  was  capa- 
ble of  turning  upon  and  facing  a  scornful  and  hostile 
world  was  a  good  and  hopeful  sign.  If  he  had  been 
willing  to  slink  away  with  his  mother,  bent  only  on 
escape    from    punishment    and    on    the    continuance   of 

130 


THE  IMPULSES  OF    WOUNDED  PRIDE.       131 

animal  enjoyment,  Mrs.  Arnot  would  have  felt  that  his 
nature  was  not  sufficiently  leavened  with  manhood  to 
give  hope  of  reform. 

But  while  his  action  did  suggest  hope,  it  also  contained 
elements  of  discouragement.  She  did  not  find  fault  with 
what  he  proposed  to  do,  but  with  the  spirit  in  which  he 
was  entering  on  his  most  difficult  task.  His  knowledge 
of  the  world  was  so  crude  and  partial  that  he  did  not  at 
all  realize  the  herculean  labor  that  he  now  became  eager 
to  attempt ;  and  he  was  bent  on  accomphshing  every 
thing  in  a  way  that  would  minister  to  his  own  pride,  and 
proposed  to  be  under  obligations  to  no  one. 

Mrs.  Arnot,  with  her  deep  and  long  experience,  knew 
how  vitally  important  it  is  that  human  endeavor  should 
be  supplemented  by  divine  aid,  and  she  sighed  deeply  as 
she  saw  that  the  young  man  not  only  ignored  this  need, 
but  did  not  even  seem  conscious  of  it.  Religion  was  to 
him  a  matter  of  form  and  profession,  to  which  he  was 
utterly  indifferent.  The  truth  that  God  helps  the  dis- 
tressed as  a  father  helps  and  comforts  his  child,  was  a 
thought  that  then  made  no  impression  on  him  whatever. 
God  and  all  relating  to  Him  were  abstractions,  and  he  felt 
that  the  emergency  was  too  pressing,  too  imperative,  for 
considerations  that  had  no  practical  and  immediate  bear- 
ing upon  his  present  success. 

Indeed,  such  was  his  pride  and  self-confidence,  that 
he  refused  to  receive  from  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  even  from 
his  mother,  any  thing  more  than  the  privilege  of  going 
out  empty-handed  into  the  city  which  was  to  become  the 
arena  of  his  future  exploits. 

He  told  Mrs.  Arnot  the  whole  story,  and  she  had  hoped 
that  she  could  place  his  folly  and  crime  before  him  in  its 
true  moral  aspects,  and  by  dealing  faithfully,  yet  kindly, 
with  him,  awaken  his  conscience.  But  she  had  the  tact 
to  discover  very  soon  that  such  effort  was  now  worse 
than  useless.     It  was  not  his  conscience,  but  his  pride, 


132  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

that  had  been  chiefly  wounded.  He  felt  his  disgrace, 
his  humiHation,  in  the  eyes  of  men  almost  too  keenly,  and 
he  was  consumed  with  desire  to  regain  society's  favor. 
But  he  did  not  feel  his  sin.  To  God's  opinion  of  him  he 
scarcely  gave  a  thought.  He  regarded  his  wrong  act  in 
the  light  of  a  sudden  and  grave  misfortune  rather  than  as 
the  manifestation  of  a  foul  and  inherent  disease  of  his 
soul.  He  had  lost  his  good  name  as  a  man  loses  his 
property,  and  beheved  that  he,  in  his  own  strength,  and 
without  any  moral  change,  could  regain  it. 

When  parting  at  the  prison,  Mrs.  Arnot  gave  him  her 
hand,  and  said : 

"I  trust  that  your  hopes  may  be  realized,  and  your 
efforts  meet  with  success  ;  but  I  cannot  help  warning  you 
that  I  fear  you  do  not  realize  what  you  are  attempting. 
The  world  is  not  only  very  cold,  but  also  suspicious  and 
wary  in  its  disposition  toward  those  who  have  forfeited 
its  confidence.  I  cannot  learn  that  you  have  any  definite 
plans  or  prospects.  I  have  never  been  able  to  accom- 
plish much  without  God's  help.  You  not  only  seem  to 
forget  your  need  of  Him,  but  you  are  not  even  willing  to 
receive  aid  from  me  or  your  own  mother.  I  honor  and 
respect  you  for  making  the  attempt  upon  which  you  are 
bent,  but  I  fear  that  pride  rather  than  wisdom  is  your 
counselor  in  carrying  out  your  resolution  ;  and  both  God's 
word  and  human  experience  prove  that  pride  goes  but  a 
little  way  before  a  fall." 

"  I  have  reached  a  depth,"  replied  Haldane,  bitterly, 
"from  whence  I  cannot  fall;  and  it  will  be  hereafter 
some  consolation  to  remember  that  I  was  not  lifted  out 
of  the  mire,  but  that  I  got  out.  If  I  cannot  climb  up 
again  it  were  better  I  perished  in  the  gutter  of  my 
shame." 

"  I  am  sorry,  Egbert,  that  you  cut  yourself  off  from  the 
most  hopeful  and  helpful  relations  which  you  can  ever 
sustain.  A  father  helps  his  children  through  their  troubles, 


THE  IMPULSES  OF   WOUNDED   PRIDE.       133 

and  so  God  is  desirous  of  helping  us.  There  are  some 
things  which  we  cannot  do  alone — it  is  not  meant  that 
ve  should.  God  is  ever  willing  to  help  those  who  are 
down,  and  Christians  are  not  worthy  of  the  name  unless 
they  are  also  willing.  It  is  our  duty  to  make  every  effort 
of  which  we  ourselves  are  capable  ;  but  this  is  only  half 
our  duty.  Since  our  tasks  are  beyond  our  strength  and 
ability,  we  are  equally  bound  to  receive  such  human  aid 
as  God  sends  us,  and,  chief  of  all,  to  ask  daily,  and  some- 
times hourly,  that  His  strength  be  made  perfect  in  our 
weakness.  But  there  are  some  lessons  which  are  only 
learned  by  experience.  I  shall  feel  deeply  grieved  if  you 
do  not  come  or  send  for  me  in  any  emergency  or  time  of 
special  need.  In  parting,  I  have  one  favor  to  ask,  and  I 
think  I  have  a  right  to  ask  it.  I  wish  you  to  go  and  see 
your  mother,  and  spend  at  least  an  hour  with  her  before 
she  returns  home.  As  a  matter  of  manly  duty,  be  kind 
and  gentle.  Remember  how  deeply  you  have  wounded 
her,  and  that  you  are  under  the  most  sacred  obligations 
to  endure  patiently  all  reproaches  and  expressions  of 
grief.  If  you  will  do  this  you  will  do  much  to  regain  my 
respect,  and  it  will  be  a  most  excellent  step  toward  a 
better  hfe.  You  can  gain  society's  respect  again  only  by 
doing  your  duty,  and  nothing  can  be  duty  more  plainly 
than  this." 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  he  said,  "  I  do  not  think 
an  interview  with  mother  now  will  do  either  of  us  any 
good  ;  but,  as  you  say,  you  have  a  right  to  ask  this,  and 
much  more,  of  me.  I  will  go  to  her  hotel  and  do  the 
best  I  can  ;  but  somehow  mother  don't  understand  hu- 
man nature — or,  at  least,  my  nature — and  when  I  have 
been  doing  wrong  she  always  makes  me  feel  like  doing 
worse." 

"  If  you  are  to  succeed  in  your  endeavor  you  are  not 
to  act  as  you  feel.  You  are  to  do  right.  Remember  that 
in  your  effort  to  win  the  position  you  wish  in  this  city,  you 


134   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

start  with  at  least  one  friend  to  whom  you  can  always 
come.  Good-by,"  and  Mrs.  Arnot  returned  home  weary 
and  sad  from  the  day's  unforeseen  experiences. 

In  answer  to  Laura's  eager  questioning,  she  related 
what  had  happened  quite  fully,  vailing  only  that  which  a 
delicate  regard  for  others  would  lead  her  to  pass  in  si- 
lence. She  made  the  young  girl  womanly  by  treating 
her  more  as  a  woman  and  a  companion  than  as  a  child. 
In  Mrs.  Arnot's  estimation  her  niece  had  reached  an  age 
when  her  innocence  and  simplicity  could  not  be  main- 
tained by  efforts  to  keep  her  shallow  and  ignorant,  but 
fcy  revealing  to  her  life  in  its  reality,  so  that  she  might 
wisely  and  gladly  choose  the  good  from  its  happy  con- 
trast with  evil  and  its  inevitable  suffering. 

The  innocence  that  walks  bhndly  on  amid  earth's 
snares  and  pitfalls  is  an  uncertain  possession  ;  the  inno- 
cence that  recognizes  evil,  but  turns  from  it  with  dread 
and  aversion,  is  priceless, 

Mrs.  Arnot  told  Laura  the  story  of  the  young  man's 
folly  substantially  as  he  had  related  it  to  her,  but  she 
skillfully  showed  how  one  comparatively  venial  thing 
had  led  to  another,  until  an  act  had  been  committed 
which  might  have  resulted  in  years  of  imprisonment. 

"Let  this  sad  and  miserable  affair  teach  you,"  said 
she,  "  that  we  are  never  safe  when  we  commence  to  do 
wrong  or  act  foolishly.  We  can  never  tell  to  what  dis- 
astrous lengths  we  may  go  when  we  leave  the  path  of 
simple  duty." 

While  she  mentioned  Haldane's  resolution  to  regain, 
if  possible,  his  good  name  and  position,  she  skillfully  re- 
moved from  the  maiden's  mind  all  romantic  notions 
concerning  the  young  man  and  her  relation  to  his  con- 
duct. 

Laura's  romantic  nature  w^ould  always  be  a  source 
both  of  strength  and  weakness.  While,  on  the  one 
hand,  it  rendered  her  incapable  of  a  sordid  and  calculat- 


THE  IMPULSES  OF   WOUNDED  PRIDE.       135 

ing  scheme  of  life,  on  the  other,  it  might  lead  to  feeling 
and  action  prejudicial  to  her  happiness.  Mrs.  Arnot  did 
not  intend  that  she  should  brood  over  Haldane  until  her 
vivid  imagination  should  weave  a  net  out  of  his  misfor- 
tunes which  might  insnare  her  heart.  It  was  best  for 
Laura  that  she  should  receive  her  explanations  of  life  in 
very  plain  prose,  and  the  picture  that  her  aunt  presented 
of  Haldane  and  his  prospects  was  prosaic  indeed.  He 
was  shown  to  be  but  an  ordinary  young  man,  with  more 
than  ordinarily  bad  tendencies.  While  she  commended 
his  effort  in  itself,  she  plainly  stated  how  wanting  it  was 
in  the  true  elements  of  success,  and  how  great  were  her 
fears  that  it  would  meet  with  utter  failure.  Thus  the 
affair  ended,  as  far  as  Laura  was  concerned,  in  a  sincere 
pity  for  her  premature  lover,  and  a  mild  and  natural 
interest  in  his  future  welfare — but  nothing  more. 

Mr.  Arnot  uttered  an  imprecation  on  learning  that  his 
wife  had  gone  security  for  Haldane.  But  when  he  found 
that  she  had  acted  through  Mr.  Melville,  in  such  a  way 
that  the  fact  need  not  become  known,  he  concluded 
to  remain  silent  concerning  the  matter.  He  and  his 
wife  met  at  the  dinner-table  that  evening  as  if  nothing 
unusual  had  occurred,  both  having  concluded  to  ignore 
all  that  had  transpired,  if  possible.  Mrs.  Arnot  saw  that 
her  husband  had  only  acted  characteristically,  and,  fron 
his  point  of  view,  correctly.  Perhaps  his  recent  expen 
ence  would  prevent  him  from  being  unduly  harsh  agaii 
should  there  ever  be  similar  cause,  which  was  quite  im 
probable.  Since  it  appeared  that  she  could  minister  tc 
his  happiness  in  no  other  way  save  through  her  property, 
she  decided  to  leave  him  the  one  meager  gratification  of 
which  he  was  capable. 

The  future  in  its  general  aspects  may  here  be  antici- 
pafed  by  briefly  stating  that  the  echoes  of  the  affair 
gradually  died  away.  Mr.  Arnot,  on  the  receipt  of  a 
check  for  one  thousand  dollars   from    Mrs.   Haldane's 


136   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

lawyer,  was  glad  to  procure  Mr.  Melville's  release  from 
the  bond  for  which  his  wife  was  pledged,  by  assuring  the 
legal  authorities  that  he  would  not  prosecute.  The  su- 
perior young  man,  who  made  free  drinks  the  ambition  of 
his  life,  had  kept  himself  well  informed,  and  on  learning 
of  the  order  for  his  arrest  left  town  temporarily  for  parts 
unknown.  The  papers  made  the  most  of  the  sensation, 
to  the  disgust  of  all  concerned,  but  reference  to  the  af- 
fair soon  dwindled  down  to  an  occasional  paragraph. 
The  city  press  concluded  editorially  that  the  great  man- 
ufacturer had  been  harsh  only  seemingly,  for  the  sake 
of  effect,  and  with  the  understanding  that  his  wife  would 
show  a  little  balancing  kindness  to  the  culprit  and  his 
aristocratic  mother.  That  Haldane  should  still  remain 
in  the  city  was  explained  on  the  ground  that  he  was 
ashamed  to  go  home,  or  that  he  was  not  wanted  there. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

AT   ODDS   WITH   THE   WORLD. 

Haldane  kept  his  promise  to  spend  an  hour  with  his 
mother.  While  he  told  her  the  truth  concerning  his 
folly,  he  naturally  tried  to  place  his  action  in  the  best 
light  possible.  After  inducing  her  to  take  some  slight 
refreshment,  he  obtained  a  close  carriage,  and  saw  her 
safely  on  the  train  which  would  convey  her  to  the  city 
wherein  she  resided.  During  the  interview  she  grew 
much  more  composed,  and  quite  remorseful  that  she  had 
not  shown  greater  consideration  for  her  son's  feehngs, 
and  she  urged  and  even  entreated  him  to  return  home 
with  her.  He  remained  firm,  however,  in  his  resolution, 
and  would  receive  from  her  only  a  very  small  sum  of 
money,  barely  enough  to  sustain  him  until  he  could  look 
around  for  employment. 

His  mother  shared  Mrs.  Arnot's  distrust,  greatly 
doubting  the  issue  of  his  large  hopes  and  vague  plans  ; 
but  she^could  only  assure  him  that  her  home,  to  which 
she  returned  crushed  and  disconsolate,  was  also  his. 

But  he  felt  that  return  was  impossible.  He  would 
rather  wander  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  than  shut  himself 
up  with  his  mother  and  sisters,  for  he  foresaw  that  their 
daily  moans  and  repinings  would  be  daily  torture.  It 
would  be  even  worse  to  appear  among  his  old  acquaint- 
ances and  companions,  and  be  taunted  with  the  fact  that 
his  first  venture  from  home  ended  in  a  common  jail. 
The  plan  of  drifting  away  to  parts  unknown,  and  of  par- 
tially losing  his  identity  by  changing  his  name,  made  a 
cold,  dreary  impression  upon  him,  like  the  thought  of 
annihilation,  and  thus  his  purpose  of  remaining  in  Hilla- 

137 


138   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ton,  and  winning  victory  on  the  very  ground  of  his  de- 
feat, grew  more  satisfactory. 

But  he  soon  began  to  learn  how  serious,  how  disheart- 
ening, is  the  condition  of  one  who  finds  society  arrayed 
against  him. 

It^is  the  fashion  to  inveigh  against  the  "  cold  and  piti- 
less world  ;  "  but  the  world  has  often  much  excuse  for 
maintaining  this  character.  As  society  is  now  consti- 
tuted, the  consequences  of  wrong-doing  are  usually  ter- 
rible and  greatly  to  be  dreaded  ;  and  all  who  have 
unhealthful  cravings  for  forbidden  things  should  be  made 
to  realize  this.  Society  very  naturally  treats  harshly 
those  who  permit  their  pleasures  and  passions  to  en- 
danger its  very  existence.  People  who  have  toilsomely 
and  patiently  erected  their  homes  and  placed  therein 
their  treasures  do  not  tolerate  with  much  equanimity 
those  who  appear  to  have  no  other  calHng  than  that  of 
recklessly  playing  with  fire.  The  well-to-do,  conserva- 
tive world  has  no  inchnation  to  make  things  pleasant  for 
those  who  propose  to  gratify  themselves  at  any  and  every 
cost:  and  if  the  culprit  pleads,  "I  did  not  realize — I 
meant  no  great  harm,"  the  retort  comes  back,  "  But 
you  do  the  harm  ;  you  endanger  every  thing.  If  you 
have  not  sense  or  principle  enough  to  act  wisely  and 
\\e\\,  do  not  expect  us  to  risk  our  fortunes  with  either 
fools  or  knaves."  And  the  man  or  the  woman  who  has 
preferred  pleasure  or  passing  gratification  or  transient 
advantage  to  that  priceless  possession,  a  good  name,  has 
little  ground  for  complaint.  If  society  readily  condoned 
those  grave  offenses  which  threaten  chaos,  thousands 
who  are  now  restrained  by  salutary  fear  would  act  out 
disastrously  the  evil  lurking  in  their  hearts.  As  long  as 
the  instinct  of  self-preservation  remains,  the  world  will 
seem  cold  and  pitiless. 

But  it  often  is  so  to  a  degree  that  cannot  be  too  severely 
condemned.     The  world  is  the  most  soulless  of  all  cor- 


AT  ODDS    WITH  THE    WORLD.  139 

porations.  In  dealing  with  the  criminal  or  unfortunate 
classes  it  generahzes  to  such  an  extent  that  exceptional 
cases  have  little  chance  of  a  special  hearing.  If  by  any 
means,  however,  such  a  hearing  can  be  obtained,  the 
world  is  usually  just,  and  often  quite  generous.  But  in 
the  main  it  says  to  all :  "  Keep  your  proper  places  in  the 
ranks.  If  you  fall  out,  we  must  leave  you  behind  ;  if  you 
make  trouble,  we  must  abate  you  as  a  nuisance."  This 
certainty  has  the  effect  of  keeping  many  in  their  places 
who  otherwise  would  drop  out  and  make  trouble,  and  is, 
so  far,  wholesome.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  this  warning 
truth,  the  wayside  of  life  is  lined  with  those  who,  for  some 
reason,  have  become  disabled  and  have  fallen  out  of  their 
places  ;  and  miserably  would  many  of  them  perish  did 
not  the  Spirit  of  Him  who  came  "  to  seek  and  save  the 
lost"  animate  true  followers  like  Mrs.  Arnot,  leading 
them  likewise  to  go  out  after  the  lame,  the  wounded,  and 
the  morally  leprous. 

Haldane  was  sorely  wounded,  but  he  chose  to  make  his 
appeal  wholly  to  the  world.  Ignoring  Heaven,  and  those 
on  earth  representing  Heaven's  forgiving  and  saving 
mercy,  he  went  out  alone,  in  the  spirit  of  pride  and  self- 
confidence,  to  deal  with  those  who  would  meet  him  solely 
on  the  ground  of  self-interest.  How  this  law  works 
against  such  as  have  shown  themselves  unworthy  of  trust, 
he  at  once  began  to  receive  abundant  proof. 

He  returned  to  the  hotel  whence  he  had  just  taken  his 
mother,  but  the  proprietor  declined  to  give  him  lodgings. 
It  was  a  house  that  cherished  its  character  for  quietness 
and  eminent  respectabihty,  and  a  young  gambler  and 
embezzler  just  out  of  prison  would  prove  an  ill-omened 
guest.  On  receiving  a  cold  and  peremptory  refusal  to  his 
application,  and  in  the  presence  of  several  others,  Hal- 
dane stalked  haughtily  away  ;  but  there  was  misgiving 
and  faintness  at  his  heart.  Such  a  public  rebuff  was  a 
new  and  strange  experience. 


140   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

With  set  teeth  and  hps  compressed  he  next  resolved  to 
go  to  the  very  hotel  where  he  had  committed  his  crime, 
and  from  that  starting-point  fight  his  way  up.  He  found 
the  public  room  more  than  usually  well  filled  with  loung- 
ers, and  could  not  help  discovering,  as  he  entered,  that 
he  was  the  subject  of  their  loud  and  unsavory  conversa- 
tion. The  Evenifig  Spy  had  just  been  read,  and  all  were 
very  busy  discussing  the  scandal.  As  the  knowledge  of 
his  presence  and  identity  was  speedily  conveyed  to  one 
and  another  in  loud  whispers,  the  noisy  tongues  ceased, 
and  the  young  man  found  himself  the  center  of  an  em- 
barrassing amount  of  observation.  But  he  endeavored 
to  give  the  idlers  a  defiant  and  careless  glance  as  he 
walked  up  to  the  proprietor  and  asked  for  a  room. 

"  No,  sir  !  "  replied  that  virtuous  individual,  with  sharp 
emphasis  ;  "  you  have  had  a  room  of  me  once  too  often. 
It's  not  my  way  to  have  gamblers,  bloats,  and  jail-birds 
hanging  around  my  place, — '  not  if  the  court  knows  her- 
self; and  she  thinks  she  does.'  You've  done  all  you 
could  to  give  my  respectable,  first-class  house  the  name 
of  a  low  gambling  hell.  The  evening  paper  even  hints 
that  some  one  connected  with  the  house  had  a  hand  in 
your  being  plucked.  You've  damaged  me  hundreds  of 
dollars,  and  if  you  ever  show  your  face  within  my  doors 
again  I'll  have  you  arrested." 

Haldane  was  stung  to  the  quick,  and  retorted  venge- 
fully  : 

"  Perhaps  the  paper  is  right.  I  was  introduced  to  the 
blacklegs  in  your  bar-room,  and  by  a  scamp  who  was  a 
habitual  lounger  here.  They  got  their  cards  of  you,  and, 
having  made  me  drunk,  and  robbed  me  in  one  of  your 
rooms,  they  had  no  trouble  in  getting  away." 

"Do  you  make  any  such  charge  against  me  ?  "  bel- 
lowed the  landlord,  starting  savagely  forward. 

"  I  say,  as  the  paper  Sdijs,  perhaps,"  rephed  Haldane, 
standing  his  ground,  but  quivering  with  rage  ;  "  I  shall 


AT  ODDS   WITH  TEE   WORLD.  141 

give  you  no  ground  for  a  libel  suit ;  but  if  you  will  come 
out  in  the  street  you  shall  have  all  the  satisfaction  you 
want  ;  and  if  you  lay  the  weight  of  your  finger  on  me 
here,  I'll  damage  you  worse  than  I  did  last  night." 

"  How  dare  you  come  here  to  insult  me?"  said  the 
landlord,  but  keeping  now  at  a  safe  distance  from  the  in- 
censed youth.  "  Some  one,  go  for  a  policeman,  for  the^ 
fellow  is  out  of  jail  years  too  soon." 

"  I  did  not  come  here  to  insult  you,  I  came,  as  every^ 
one  has  a  right  to  come,  to  ask  for  a  room,  for  which  I 
meant  to  pay  your  price,  and  you  insulted  me." 

"Well,  you  can't  have  a  room." 

"  If  you  had  quietly  said  that  and  no  more  in  the  first 
place,  there  would  have  been  no  trouble.  But  I  want 
you  and  everyone  else  to  understand  that  I  won't  be 
struck,  if  I  am  down  ;  "  and  he  turned  on  his  heel  and" 
strode  out  of  the  house,  followed  by  a  volley  of  curses- 
from  the  enraged  landlord  and  the  bar-tender,  who  had 
smirked  so  agreeably  the  evening  before. 

A  distorted  account  of  this  scene — pubhshed  in  the 
Courier  the  following  day,  in  connection  with  a  detailed 
account  of  the  whole  miserable  affair — added  considerably 
to  the  ill  repute  that  already  burdened  Haldane;  for  it 
was  intimated  that  he  was  as  ready  for  a  street  brawl  as 
for  any  other  species  of  lawlessness. 

The  Courier,  having  had  the  nose  of  its  representative 
demolished  by  Haldane,  was  naturally  prejudiced  against 
him  ;  and,  influenced  by  its  darkly-colored  narrative,  the 
citizens  shook  their  heads  over  the  young  man,  and  con- 
cluded that  he  was  a  dangerous  character,  who  had  be- 
come unnaturally  and  precociously  depraved  ;  and  there 
was  quite  a  general  hope  that  Mr.  Arnot  would  not  fail 
to  prosecute,  so  that  the  town  might  be  rid  of  one  who 
promised  to  continue  a  source  of  trouble. 

The  Spy,  a  rival  paper,  showed  a  tendency  to  dwell  on 
the  extenuating  circumstances.     But  it  is  so  much  easier 


142   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

for  a  community  to  believe  evil  rather  than  good  of  a 
person,  that  mere  excuses  and  apologies,  and  the  sugges- 
tion that  the  youth  had  been  victimized,  had  little  weight. 
Besides,  the  world  shows  a  tendency  to  detest  weak  fools 
even  more  than  knaves. 

After  his  last  bitter  experience  Haldane  felt  unwilling 
to  venture  to  another  hotel,  and  he  endeavored  to  find  a 
quiet  boarding-place  ;  but  as  soon  as  he  mentioned  his 
name,  the  keepers,  male  and  female,  suddenly  discovered 
that  they  had  no  rooms.  Night  was  near,  and  his  courage 
was  beginning  to  fail  him,  when  he  at  last  found  a  thrifty 
gentlewoman  who  gave  far  more  attention  to  her  house- 
wifely cares  than  to  the  current  news.  She  readily  re- 
ceived the  well-dressed  stranger,  and  showed  him  to  his 
room.  Haldane  did  not  hide  his  name  from  her,  for  he 
resolved  to  spend  the  night  in  the  street  before  dropping 
a  name  which  now  seemed  to  turn  people  from  him  as  if 
contagion  lurked  in  it,  and  he  was  relieved  to  find  that, 
as  yet,  it  had  to  her  no  disgraceful  associations.  He  was 
bent  on  securing  one  good  night's  rest,  and  so  excused 
himself  from  going  down  to  supper,  lest  he  should  meet 
some  one  that  knew  him.  After  nightfall  he  slipped  out 
to  an  obscure  restaurant  for  his  supper. 

His  precaution,  however,  was  vain,  for  on  his  return  to 
his  room  he  encountered  in  a  hallway  one  of  the  loungers 
who  had  witnessed  the  recent  scene  at  the  hotel.  After 
a  second's  stare  the  man  passed  on  down  to  the  shabby- 
genteel  parlor,  and  soon  whist,  novels,  and  papers  were 
dropped,  as  the  immaculate  little  community  learned  of 
the  contaminating  presence  beneath  the  same  roof  with 
themselves. 

"  A  man  just  out  of  prison  !  A  man  merely  released  on 
bail,  and  who  would  certainly  be  convicted  when  tried  !  " 

With  a  virtue  which  might  have  put  "  Caesar's  wife  " 
to  the  blush,  sere  and  withered  gentlewomen  pursed  up 
their  mouths,  and  declared  that  they  could  not  sleep  in 


AT  ODDS    WITH  THE    WORLD.  143 

the  same  house  with  such  a  disreputable  person.  The 
thrifty  landlady,  whose  principle  of  success  was  the  con- 
centration of  all  her  faculties  on  the  task  of  satisfying  the 
digestive  organs  of  her  patrons,  found  herself  for  once  at 
fault,  and  she  was  quite  surprised  to  learn  what  a  high- 
toned  class  of  people  she  was  entertaining. 

But,  then,  "  business  is  business."  Poor  Haldane 
was  but  one  uncertain  lodger,  and  here  were  a  dozen  or 
iTiore  "regulars"  arrayed  against  him.  The  sagacious 
woman  was  not  long  in  climbing  to  the  door  of  the  ob- 
noxious guest,  and  her  very  knock  said,  "  What  are  you 
doing  here  ?  " 

Haldane's  first  thought  was,  "She  is  a  woman;  she 
will  not  have  the  heart  to  turn  me  away."  He  had  be- 
come so  weary  and  disheartened  that  his  pride  was  fail- 
ing him,  and  he  was  ready  to  plead  for  the  chance  of  a 
little  rest.  Therefore  he  opened  the  door,  and  invited 
the  landlady  to  enter  in  the  most  conciliating  manner. 
But  no  such  poor  chaff  would  be  of  any  avail  with  one  of 
Mrs.  Gruppins'  experience,  and  looking  straight  before 
her,  as  if  addressing  no  one  in  particular,  she  said  sen- 
tentiously  : 

"  I  wish  this  room  vacated  within  a  half  hour." 

"  If  you  have  the  heart  of  a  woman  you  will  not  send 
me  out  this  rainy  night.  I  am  weary  and  sick  in  body  and 
mind.     I  wouldn't  turn  a  dog  out  in  the  night  and  storm." 

"You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  sir,"  said  Mrs. 
Gruppins,  turning  on  him  indignantly  ;  "  to  think  that  you 
should  take  advantage  of  a  poor  and  defenseless  widow, 
and  me  so  inexperienced  and  ignorant  of  the  wicked 
world." 

"  I  did  not  take  advantage  of  your  ignorance.  I  told 
you  who  I  was,  and  am  able  to  pay  for  the  room.  In  the 
morning  I  will  leave  your  house,  if  you  have  so  much 
objection  to  my  remaining." 

"Why  shouldn't  I  object.''     I  never  had  such  as  you 


144  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

here  before.  All  my  boarders" — she  added  in  a  louder 
tone,  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  were  listening  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs — "  all  my  boarders  are  peculiarly  respectable 
people,  and  I  would  not  have  them  scandalized  by  your 
presence  here  another  minute  if  I  could  help  it." 

"  How  much  do  I  owe  you?  "  asked  Haldane,  in  a  tone 
that  was  harsh  from  its  suppressed  emotion. 

"  I  don't  want  any  of  your  money — I  don't  want  any 
thing  to  do  with  people  who  are  lodged  at  the  expense 
of  the  State.  If  you  took  money  last  night,  there  is  no 
telling  what  you  will  take  to-night." 

Haldane  snatched  his  hat  and  rushed  from  the  house, 
overwhelmed  with  a  deeper  and  more  terrible  sense  of 
shame  and  degradation  than  he  had  ever  imagined  pos- 
sible. He  had  become  a  pariah,  and  in  bitterness  of  heart 
was  realizing  the  truth. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   world's   verdict— our   KNIGHT   A    CRIMINAL. 

A  FEW  moments  before  his  interview  with  the  thrifty 
and  respectable  Mrs.  Gruppins,  Haldane  had  supposed 
himself  too  weary  to  drag  one  foot  after  the  other  in  search 
of  another  resting-place  ;  and  therefore  his  eager  hope 
that  that  obdurate  female  might  not  be  gifted  with  the  same 
quality  of  "  in'ards  "  which  Pat  M'Cabe  ascribed  to  Mr. 
Arnot.  He  had,  indeed,  nearly  reached  the  limit  of  en- 
durance, for  had  he  been  in  his  best  and  most  vigorous 
condition,  a  day  which  taxed  so  terribly  both  body  and 
mind  would  have  drained  his  vitality  to  the  point  of  ex- 
haustion. As  it  was,  the  previous  night's  debauch  told 
against  him  like  a  term  of  illness.  He  had  since  taken 
food  insufficiently  and  irregularly,  and  was,  therefore,  in 
no  condition  to  meet  the  extraordinary  demands  of  the 
ordeal  through  which  he  was  passing.  Mental  distress, 
moreover,  is  far  more  wearing  than  physical  effort ;  and 
his  anguish  of  mind  had  risen  several  times  during  the 
day  almost  to  frenzy. 

In  spite  of  all  this,  the  sharp  and  pitiless  tongue  of 
Mrs.  Gruppins  goaded  him  again  to  the  verge  of  desper- 
ation, and  he  strode  rapidly  and  aimlessly  away,  through 
the  night  and  storm,  w^ith  a  wilder  tempest  raging  in  his 
breast.  But  the  gust  of  feehng  died  away  as  suddenly 
as  it  had  arisen,  and  left  him  ill  and  faint.  A  telegraph 
pole  was  near,  and  he  leaned  against  it  for  support. 

"  Move  on,"  growled  a  passing  policeman. 

"Will  you  do  me  a  kindness?"  asked  Haldane;  "I 
am  poor  and  sick — a  stranger.  Tell  me  where  I  can  hire 
a  bed  for  a  small  sum." 

145 


146   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

The  policeman  directed  him  down  a  side  street,  say- 
ing, "You  can  get  a  be^  at  No.  13,  and  no  questions 
asked." 

There  was  unspeakable  comfort  in  the  last  assurance, 
for  it  now  seemed  that  he  could  hope  to  find  a  refuge  only 
in  places  where  "  no  questions  were  asked." 

With  difficulty  the  weary  youth  reached  the  house,  and 
by  paying  a  small  extra  sum  was  able  to  obtain  a  wretched 
little  room  to  himself;  but  never  did  storm-tossed  and 
endangered  sailors  enter  a  harbor's  quiet  waters  with  a 
greater  sense  of  relief  than  did  Haldane  as  he  crept  up 
into  this  squalid  nook,  which  would  at  least  give  him  a 
little  respite  from  the  world's  terrible  scorn. 

What  a  priceless  gift  for  the  unhappy,  the  unfortunate, 
— yes,  and  for  the  guilty, — is  sleep  !  Many  seem  to  think 
of  the  body  only  as  a  clog,  impeding  mental  action, — as 
a  weight,  chaining  the  spirit  down.  Were  the  mind,  in 
its  activity,  independent  of  the  body — were  the  wounded 
spirit  unable  to  forget  its  pain — could  the  guilty  con- 
science sting  incessantly — then  the  chief  human  industry 
would  come  to  be  the  erection  of  asylums  for  the  insane. 
But  by  an  unfathomable  mystery  the  tireless  regal  spirit 
has  been  blended  with  the  flesh  and  blood  of  its  servant, 
the  body.  In  heaven,  where  there  is  neither  sin  nor  pain, 
even  the  body  becomes  spiritual  ;  but  on  earth,  where  it 
so  often  happens,  as  in  the  case  of  poor  Haldane,  that  to 
think  and  to  remember  is  torture,  it  is  a  blessed  thing 
that  the  body,  formed  from  the  earth,  often  becomes 
heavy  as  earth,  and  rests  upon  the  spirit  for  a  few  hours 
at  least,  like  the  clods  with  which  we  fill  the  grave. 

The  morning  of  the  following  day  was  quite  well  ad- 
vanced when  Haldane  awoke  from  his  long  oblivion, 
and,  after  regaining  consciousness,  he  lay  a  full  hour 
longer  trying  to  realize  his  situation,  and  to  think  of  some 
plan  by  which  he  might  best  recover  his  lost  position. 
As  he  recalled  all  that  had  occurred  he  began  to  under- 


THE    WORLD'S    VERDICT.  147 

stand  the  extreme  difficulty  of  his  task,  and  he  even 
queried  whether  it  were  possible  for  him  to  succeed.  If 
the  respectable  would  not  even  give  him  shelter,  how 
could  he  hope  that  they  would  employ  and  trust  him  ? 

After  he  had  partaken  of  quite  a  hearty  breakfast, 
however,  his  fortunes  began  to  wear  a  less  forbidding 
aspect.  Endowed  with  youth,  health,  and,  as  he  be- 
lieved, with  more  than  usual  ability,  he  felt  that  there 
was  scarcely  occasion  for  despair.  Some  one  would  em- 
ploy him — some  one  would  give  him  another  chance. 
He  would  take  any  respectable  work  that  would  give  him 
a  foothold,  and  by  some  vague,  fortunate  means,  which 
the  imagination  of  the  young  always  supplies,  he  would 
achieve  success  that  would  obhterate  the  memory  of  the 
past.  Therefore,  with  flashes  of  hope  in  his  heart,  he 
started  out  to  seek  his  fortune,  and  commenced  applying 
at  the  various  stores  and  offices  of  the  city. 

So  far  from  giving  any  encouragement,  people  were 
much  surprised  that  he  had  the  assurance  to  ask  to  be 
employed  and  trusted  again.  The  majority  dismissed 
him  coldly  and  curtly.  A  few  mongrel  natures,  true  to 
themselves,  gave  a  snarling  refusal.  Then  there  were 
jovial  spirits  who  must  have  their  jest,  even  though  the 
sensitive  subject  of  it  was  tortured  thereby — men  who 
enjoyed  quizzing  Haldane  before  sending  him"  on,  as 
much  as  the  old  inquisitors  relished  a  little  recreation 
with  hot  pincers  and  thumb-screws.  There  were  also 
conscientious  people,  whose  worldly  prudence  prevented 
them  from  giving  employment  to  one  so  damaged  in 
character,  and  yet  who  felt  constrained  to  give  some  good 
advice.  To  this,  it  must  be  confessed,  Haldane  listened 
with  very  poor  grace,  thus  extending  the  impression  that 
he  was  a  rather  hopeless  subject. 

"  Good  God  !  "  he  exclaimed,  interrupting  an  old  gen- 
tleman w^ho  was  indulging  in  some  platitudes  to  the  eflfect 
that  the  "  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard  " — "  I  would 


148   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

rather  black  your  boots  than  hsten  to  such  talk.  What 
I  want  is  work — a  chance  to  live  honestly.  What's  the 
use  of  telUng  a  fell6w  not  to  go.  to  the  devil,  and  then 
practically  send  him  to  the  devil?  " 

The  old  gentleman  was  somewhat  shocked  and  of- 
fended, and  coldly  intimated  that  he  had  no  need  of  the 
young  man's  services. 

A  few  spoke  kindly  and  seemed  truly  sorry  for  him, 
but  they  either  had  no  employment  to  give,  or,  on  busi- 
ness principles,  felt  that  they  could  not  introduce  among 
their  other  assistants  one  under  bonds  to  appear  and  be 
tried  for  a  State-prison  offense  that  was  already  the  same 
as  proved. 

After  receiving  rebuffs,  and  often  what  he  regarded  as 
insults,  for  hours,  the  young  man's  hope  began  to  fail 
him  utterly.  His  face  grew  pale  and  haggard,  not  only 
from  fatigue,  but  from  that  which  tells  disastrously  almost 
as  soon  upon  the  body  as  upon  the  mind — discourage- 
ment. He  saw  that  he  had  not  yet  fully  realized  the 
consequences  of  his  folly.  The  deep  and  seemingly  im- 
placable resentment  of  society  was  a  continued  surprise. 
He  was  not  conscious  of  being  a  monster  of  wickedness, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  that  after  his  bitter  experience  he 
would  rather  starve  than  again  touch  what  was  not  his 
own. 

But  the  trouble  is,  the  world  does  not  give  us  much 
credit  for  what  we  think,  feel,  and  imagine,  even  if 
aware  of  our  thoughts.  It  is  what  we  do  that  forms 
public  opinion  ;  and  it  was  both  natural  and  just  that  the 
public  should  have  a  very  decided  opinion  of  one  who 
had  recently  shown  himself  capable  of  gambling,  drunk- 
enness, and  practical  theft. 

And  yet  the  probabilities  were  that  if  some  kind,  just 
man  had  bestowed  upon  Haldane  both  employment  and 
trust,  with  a  chance  to  rise,  his  bitter  lesson  would  have 
made  him  scrupulously  careful  to  shun  his  peculiar  temp- 


THE    WORLD'S    VERDICT.  149 

tations  from  that  time  forward.  But  the  world  usually 
regards  one  who  has  committed  a  crime  as  a  criminal, 
and  treats  him  as  such.  It  cannot,  if  it  would,  nicely 
calculate  the  hidden  moral  state  and  future  chances.  It 
acts  on  sound  generalities,  regardless  of  the  exceptions  ; 
and  .thus  it  often  happens  that  men  and  women  who  at 
first  can  scarcely  understand  the  world's  adverse  opin- 
ion, are  disheartened  by  it,  and  at  last  come  to  merit  the 
worst  that  can  be  said  or  thought. 

As,  at  the  time  of  his  first  arrest,  Haldane  had  found 
his  eyes  drawn  by  a  strange,  cruel  fascination  to  every 
scornful  or  curious  face  upon  the  street,  so  now  he  began 
to  feel  a  morbid  desire  to  know  just  what  people  were 
saying  and  thinking  of  him.  He  purchased  both  that 
day's  papers  and  those  of  the  previous  day,  and,  finding 
a  httle  out-of-the-way  restaurant  kept  by  a  foreigner,  he 
"supped  full  with" — what  were  to  him  emphatically — 
"  horrors  ;  "  the  dinner  and  supper  combined,  which  he 
had  ordered,  growing  cold,  in  the  meantime,  and  as  un- 
inviting as  the  place  in  which  it  was  served. 

His  eyes  dwelt  longest  upon  those  sentences  which  were 
the  most  unmercifully  severe,  and  they  seemed  to  burn 
their  way  into  his  very  soul.  Was  he  in  truth  such  a 
miscreant  as  the  Courier  dtscnhtd  ?  Mrs.  Arnot  had  not 
shrunk  from  him  as  from  contamination  ;  but  she  was 
different  from  all  other  people  that  he  had  known  ;  and 
he  now  remembered,  also,  that  even  she  always  referred 
to  his  act  in  a  grave,  troubled  way,  as  if  both  its  charac- 
ter and  consequences  were  serious  indeed. 

There  was  such  a  cold,  leaden  despondency  burden- 
ing his  heart  that  he  felt  that  he  must  have  relief  of  some 
kind.  Although  remembering  his  rash  invocation  of  fatal 
consequences  to  himself  should  he  touch  again  that  which 
had  brought  him  so  much  evil,  he  now,  with  a  reckless 
oath,  muttered  that  he  "  needed  some  liquor,  and  would 
have  it." 


150  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Having  finished  a  repast  from  which  he  would  have 
turned  in  disgust  before  his  fortunes  had  so  greatly 
altered,  and  having  gained  a  little  temporary  courage 
from  the  more  than  doubtful  brandy  served  in  such  a 
place,  he  obtained  permission  to  sit  by  the  fire  and  smoke 
away  the  blustering  evening,  for  he  felt  no  disposition  to 
face  the  world  again  that  day.  The  German  proprietor 
and  his  beer-drinking  patrons  paid  no  attention  to  the 
stranger,  and  as  he  sat  off  on  one  side  by  himself  at  a 
table,  with  a  mug  of  lager  before  him,  he  was  practically 
as  much  alone,  and  as  lonely,  as  if  in  a  desert. 

In  a  dull,  vague  way  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  was  very 
fitting  that  those  present  should  speak  in  a  foreign  and 
unknown  tongue,  and  act  and  look  differently  from  all 
classes  of  people  formerly  known  to  him.  He  was  in  a 
different  world,  and  it  was  appropriate  that  every  thing 
should  appear  strange  and  unfamiHar. 

Finding  that  he  could  have  a  room  in  this  same  little, 
dingy  restaurant-hotel,  where  he  had  obtained  his  supper, 
he  resolved  that  he  would  torture  himself  no  more  that 
night  with  thoughts  of  the  past  or  future,  but  slowly 
stupefy  himself  into  sleep.       ^ 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE   world's    best    OFFER — A   PRISON. 

After  a  walk  in  the  sweet  April  sunshine  the  follow- 
ing morning,  a  hearty  breakfast,  and  a  general  rallying 
of  the  elastic  forces  of  youth,  Haldane  felt  that  he  had 
not  yet  reached  the  "  bnnk  of  dark  despair," 

Indeed,  he  had  an  odd  sense  of  pride  that  he  had  sur- 
vived the  ordeal  of  the  last  two  days,  and  still  felt  as 
well  as  he  did.  Although  it  was  but  an  Arab's  hfe,  in 
which  every  man's  hand  seemed  against  him,  yet  he 
still  lived,  and  concluded  that  he  could  continue  to  live 
indefinitely. 

He  did  not  go  out  again,  as  on  the  previous  day,  to 
seek  employment,  but  sat  down  and  tried  to  think  his 
way  into  the  future  somewhat. 

The  first  question  that  presented  itself  w^as,  Should  he 
in  any  contingency  return  home  to  his  mother? 

He  was  not  long  in  deciding  adversely,  for  it  seemed 
to  him  to  involve  such  a  bitter  mortification  that  he  felt 
he  would  rather  starve. 

Should  he  send  to  her  for  money  ? 

That  would  be  scarcely  less  humiliating,  for  it  was 
equivalent  to  a  confession  that  he  could  not  even  take 
care  of  himself,  much  less  achieve  all  the  brave  things 
he  had  intimated.  He  was  still  more  averse  to  going  to 
Mrs.  Arnot  for  what  would  seem  charity  to  her  husband 
and  to  every  one  else  who  might  hear  of  it.  The  proba- 
bility, also,  that  Laura  would  learn  of  such  an  appeal  for 
aid  made  him  scout  the  very  thought. 

Should  he  go  away  among  strangers,  change  his  name 
151 


152   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and    commence    life   anew,   unburdened   by  the  weight 


which  now  dragged  him  down? 

The  thought  of  cutting  himself  off  utterly  from  all 
Avhom  he  knew,  or  who  cared  for  him,  caused  a  cold, 
shivering  sense  of  dread.  It  would,  also,  be  a  confes- 
sion of  defeat,  an  acknowledgment  that  he  could  not 
accomplish  what  he  had  promised  to  himself  and  to 
others.  He  had,  moreover,  sufficient  forethought  to  per- 
ceive that  any  success  which  he  might  achieve  elsewhere, 
and  under  another  name,  would  be  such  a  slight  and 
baseless  fabric  that  a  breath  from  one  who  now  knew 
him  could  overturn  it.  He  might  lead  an  honorable  life 
for  years,  and  yet  no  one  would  believe  him  honorable 
after  discovering  that  he  was  living  under  an  alias  and 
concealing  a  crime.  If  he  could  build  himself  up  in 
Hillaton  he  would  be  founded  on  the  rock  of  truth,  and 
need  fear  no  disastrous  reverses  from  causes  against 
which  he  could  not  guard. 

Few  can  be  more  miserable  than  those  who  hold  theii 
fortunes  and  good  name  on  sufferance — safe  only  in  the 
power  and  disposition  of  others  to  keep  some  wretched 
secret ;  and  he  is  but  httle  better  off  who  fears  that  every 
stranger  arriving  in  town  may  recognize  in  his  face  the 
features  of  one  that,  years  before,  by  reason  of  some  dis- 
graceful act,  fled  from  himself  and  all  who  knew  him. 
The  more  Haldane  thought  upon  the  scheme  of  losing 
his  identity,  and  of  becoming  that  vague,  and,  as  yet, 
unnamed  stranger,  who  after  years  of  exile  would  still  be 
himself,  though  to  the  world  not  himself,  the  less  attract- 
ive it  became. 

He  finally  concluded  that,  as  he  had  resolved  to  re- 
main in  Hillaton,  he  would  keep  his  resolution,  and 
that,  as  he  had  plainly  stated  his  purpose  to  lift  himself 
up  by  his  own  unaided  efforts,  he  would  do  so  if  it  were 
possible  ;  and  if  it  were  not,  he  would  live  the  life  of  a 
laborer — a  tramp,  even— rather  than  "skulk  back,"  as 


THE    WORLD'S  BEST  OFFER— A   PRISON.     153 

he  expressed  it,  to  those  who  were  once  kindred  and 
companions. 

"  If  I  cannot  walk  erect  to  their  front  doors,  I  will 
^lever  crawl  around  to  the  back  entrances.  If  I  ever 
must  take  alms  to  keep  from  starving,  it  will  be  from 
strangers.  I  shall  never  inflict  myself  as  a  dead  weight 
and  a  painfully-tolerated  infamy  on  any  one.  I  was  able 
to  get  myself  into  this  disgusting  slough,  and  if  I  haven't 
brains  and  pluck  enough  to  get  myself  out,  I  will  remain 
at  this,  my  level,  to  which  I  have  fallen." 

Thus  pride  still  counseled  and  controlled,  and  yet  it 
was  a  kind  of  pride  that  inspires  something  like  respect. 
It  proved  that  there  was  much  good  metal  in  the  crude^ 
misshapen  ore  of  his  nature. 

But  the  necessity  of  doing  something  was  urgent,  for 
the  sum  he  had  been  willing  to  receive  from  his  mother 
was  small,  and  rapidly  diminishing. 

Among  the  possible  activities  in  which  he  might  en- 
gage, that  of  writing  for  papers  and  magazines  occurred 
to  him,  and  the  thought  at  once  caught  and  fired  his  im- 
agination. The  mysteries  of  the  literary  world  were  the 
least  known  to  him,  and  therefore  it  offered  the  greatest 
amount  of  vague  promise  and  indefinite  hope.  Here  a 
path  might  open  to  both  fame  and  fortune.  The  more 
he  dwelt  on  the  possibility  the  more  it  seemed  to  take  the 
aspect  of  probability.  Under  the  signature  of  E.  H.  he 
would  write  thrilling  tales,  until  the  public  insisted  upon 
knowing  the  great  unknown.  Then  he  could  reverse 
present  experience  by  scorning  those  who  had  scorned 
him.  He  recalled  all  that  he  had  ever  read  about  genius 
toiling  in  its  attic  until  the  world  was  compelled  tO' 
recognize  and  do  homage  to  the  regal  mind.  He  would 
remain  in  seclusion  also  ;  he  would  burn  midnight  oil 
until  he  should  come  to  be  known  as  Haldane  the  bril- 
liant writer  instead  of  Haldane  the  gambler,  drunkard, 
and  thief. 


a 54   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

All  on  fire  with  his  new  project,  he  sallied  forth  to  the 
nearest  news  stand,  and  selected  two  or  three  papers  and 
magazines,  whose  previous  interest  to  him  and  known 
popularity  suggested  that  they  were  the  best  mediums  in 
-which  he  could  rise  upon  the  public  as  a  literary  star,  all 
the  more  attractive  because  unnamed  and  unknown. 

His  next  proceeding  indicated  a  commendable  amount 
of  shrewdness,  and  proved  that  his  roseate  visions  re- 
sulted more  from  ignorance  and  inexperience  than  from 
innate  foolishness.  He  carefully  read  the  periodicals  he 
had  bought,  in  the  hope  of  obtaining  hints  and  sugges- 
tions from  their  contents  which  would  aid  him  in  pro- 
ducing acceptable  manuscripts.  Some  of  the  sketches 
and  stories  appeared  very  simple,  the  style  flowing  along 
as  smoothly  and  limpidly  as  a  summer  brook  through 
the  meadows.  He  did  not  see  why  he  could  not  write  in 
a  similar  vein,  perhaps  more  excitingly  and  interestingly. 
In  his  partial  and  neglected  course  of  study  he  had  not 
given  much  attention  to  belles-lettres,  and  was  not  aware 
that  the  simplicity  and  lucid  purity  of  thought  which 
made  certain  pages  so  easily  read  were  produced  by  the 
iDest  trained  and  most  cultured  talent  existing  among  the 
regular  contributors. 

He  spent  the  evening  and  the  greater  part  of  a  sleep- 
less night  in  constructing  a  crude  plot  of  a  story,  and, 
having  procured  writing  materials,  hastened  through  an 
early  breakfast,  the  following  morning,  in  his  eagerness 
to  enter  on  what  now  seemed  a  shining  path  to  fame. 

He  sat  down  and  dipped  his  pen  in  ink.  The  blank, 
white  page  was  before  him,  awaiting  his  brilliant  and 
"burning  thoughts  ;  but  for  some  reason  they  did  not  and 
would  not  come.  This  puzzled  him.  He  could  dash  off 
a  letter,  and  write  with  ease  a  plain  business  statement. 
AVhy  could  he  not  commence  and  go  on  with  his  story  ? 

"  How  do  those  other  fellows  commence  ?  "  he  men- 
tally queried,  and  he  again  carefully  read  and  examined 


THE    WORLD'S  BEST  OFFER— A    PRISON.     155 

the  opening  paragraphs  of  two  or  three  tales  that  had 
pleased  him.  They  seemed  to  commence  and  go  for- 
ward very  easily  and  naturally.  Why  could  not  he  do 
the  same  ? 

To  his  dismay  he  found  that  he  could  not.  He  might 
as  well  have  sat  down  and  hoped  to  have  deftly  and 
skillfully  constructed  a  watch  as  to  have  imitated  the 
style  of  the  stories  that  most  interested  him,  for  he  had 
never  formed  even  the  power,  much  less  the  habit,  of 
composition. 

After  a  few  labored  and  inconsequential  sentences, 
which  seem.ed  like  crude  ore  instead  of  the  molten,  burn- 
ing metal  of  thought  left  to  cool  in  graceful  molds,  he 
threw  aside  his  pen  in  despair. 

After  staring  despondently  for  a  time  at  the  blank 
page,  w^hich  now  promised  to  remain  as  blank  as  the 
future  then  seemed,  the  fact  suddenly  occurred  to  him 
that  even  genius  often  spurred  its  flagging  or  dormant 
powers  by  stimulants.  Surely,  then,  he,  in  his  pressing 
emergency,  had  a  right  to  avail  himself  of  this  aid.  A 
little  brandy  might  awaken  his  imagination,  which  w-ould 
then  kindle  with  his  theme. 

At  any  rate,  he  had  no  objection  to  the  brandy,  and 
with  this  inspiration  he  again  resumed  his  pen.  He  was 
soon  astonished  and  delighted  with  the  result,  for  he 
found  himself  writing  with  ease  and  fluency.  His 
thoughts  seemed  to  become  vivid  and  powerful,  and  his 
story  grew  rapidly.  As  body  and  mind  flagged,  the  po- 
tent genii  in  the  black  bottle  again  lifted  and  soared  on 
with  him  until  the  marvelous  tale  was  completed. 

He  decided  to  correct  the  manuscript  on  the  following 
day,  and  was  so  complacent  and  hopeful  over  his  per- 
formance that  he  scarcely  noted  that  he  was  beginning 
to  feel  wretchedly  from  the  inevitable  reaction.  The 
next  day,  with  dull  and  aching  head  he  tried  to  read 
what  he  had  written,  but  found  it  dreary  and  disappoint- 


156   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ing  work.  His  sentences  and  paragraphs  appeared  like 
clouds  from  which  the  light  had  faded  ;  but  he  explained 
this  fact  to  himself  on  the  ground  of  his  depressed 
physical  state,  and  he  went  through  his  task  with  dogged 
persistence. 

He  felt  better  on  the  following  day,  and  with  the  aid 
of  the  bottle  he  resolved  to  give  his  inventive  genius  an- 
other flight.  On  this  occasion  he  would  attempt  a  longer 
story — one  that  would  occupy  him  several  days  ;  and  he 
again  stimulated  himself  up  to  a  condition  in  which  he 
found  at  least  no  lack  of  words.  When  he  attained  what 
he  supposed  was  his  best  mood,  he  read  over  again  the 
work  of  the  preceding  day,  and  was  delighted  to  find 
that  It  now  glowed  with  prismatic  hues.  In  his  compla- 
cency he  at  once  dispatched  it  to  the  paper  for  which  it 
was  designed. 

Three  or  four  days  of  alternate  work  and  brooding 
passed,  and  if  various  and  peculiar  moods  prove  the  pos- 
session of  genius,  Haldane  certainly  might  claim  it.  Be- 
tween his  sense  of  misfortune  and  disgrace,  and  the  fact 
that  his  funds  were  becoming  low,  on  one  hand,  and  his 
towering  hopes  and  shivering  fears  concerning  his  liter- 
ary ventures,  on  the  other,  he  was  emphatically  in  what 
is  termed  "  a  state  of  mind  "  continuously.  These  causes 
alone  w^ere  sufficient  to  make  mental  serenity  impossible  ; 
but  the  after-effects  of  the  decoction  from  which  he  ob- 
tained his  inspiration  were  even  worse,  and  after  a  week's 
work  the  thought  occurred  to  him  more  than  once  that 
if  he  pursued  a  literary  life,  either  his  genius  or  that 
which  he  imbibed  as  its  spur  would  consume  him  utterly. 

By  the  time  the  first  two  stories  were  finished  he  found 
that  it  would  be  necessary  to  supplement  the  labors  of 
his  pen.  He  would  have  to  wait  at  least  a  few  days  be- 
fore he  could  hope  for  any  returns,  even  though  he  had 
urged  in  his  accompanying  notes  prompt  acceptance  and 
remittance  for  their  value. 


THE    WORLD'S  BEST  OFFER— A    PRISON.     157 

He  went  to  the  office  of  the  Evening  Spy,  the  paper 
which  had  shown  some  leniency  toward  him,  and  offered 
his  services  as  writer,  or  reporter ;  and,  although  taught 
by  harsh  experience  not  to  hope  for  very  much,  he  was 
a  little  surprised  at  the  peremptory  manner  in  which  his 
services  were  declined.  His  face  seemed  to  ask  an  ex- 
planation, and  the  editor  said  briefly, 

"We  did  not  bear  down  very  hard  on  you — it's  not 
our  custom  ;  but  both  inclination  and  necessity  lead  us 
to  require  that  every  one  and  every  thing  connected  with 
this  paper  should  be  eminently  respectable  and  deserving 
of  respect.     Good  morning,  sir." 

Haldane's  pre-eminence  consisted  only  in  his  lack  of 
respectability  ;  and  after  the  brave  visions  of  the  past 
week,  based  on  his  literary  toil,  this  cool,  sharp-cut  state- 
ment of  society's  opinion  quenched  about  all  hope  of  ever 
rising  by  first  gaining  recognition  and  employment  among 
those  whose  position  was  similar  to  what  his  own  had 
been.  As  he  plodded  his  way  back  to  the  miserable  little 
foreign  restaurant,  his  mind  began  to  dwell  on  this  ques- 
tion, 

"  Is  there  any  place  in  the  world  for  one  who  has  com- 
mitted a  crime,  save  a  prison?  " 


CHAPTER  XX. 

MAIDEN   AND   WOOD-SAWYER. 

Before  utterly  abandoning  all  hope  of  finding  em  • 
ployment  that  should  in  some  small  degree  preserve  an 
air  of  respectability,  Haldane  resolved  to  give  up  one 
more  day  to  the  search,  and  on  the  following  morning 
he  started  out  and  walked  until  night-fall.  He  even  of- 
fered to  take  the  humblest  positions  that  would  insure 
him  a  support  and  some  recognition  ;  but  the  record  of 
his  action  while  in  Mr.  Arnot's  employ  followed  him 
everywhere,  creating  sufficient  prejudice  in  every  case  to 
lead  to  a  refusal  of  his  apphcation.  Some  said  "No" 
reluctantly  and  hesitatingly,  as  if  kindly  feelings  within 
took  the  young  man's  part ;  but  they  said  it,  nevertheless. 

For  the  patient  resolution  with  which  he  continued  to 
apply  to  all  kinds  of  people  and  places,  hour  after  hour, 
in  spite  of  such  disheartening  treatment,  he  deserved 
much  praise;  but  he  did  not  receive  any;  and  at  last, 
weary  and  despondent,  he  returned  to  his  miserable  lodg- 
ings. He  was  so  desperately  depressed  in  body  and 
mind  that  the  contents  of  the  black  bottle  seemed  his 
only  resource. 

Such  a  small  sum  now  remained  that  he  felt  that  some- 
thing must  be  done  instantly.  He  concluded  that  his 
only  course  now  was  to  go  out  and  pick  up  any  odd  bits 
of  work  that  he  could  find.  He  hoped  that  by  working 
half  the  time  he  might  make  enough  to  pay  for  his  board 
^t  his  present  cheap  lodging-place.  This  would  leave 
him  time  to  continue  his  writing,  and  in  the  course  of  a 
week  more  he  would  certainly  hear  from  the  manuscripts 
already  forwarded.  On  these  he  now  built  nearly  all  his 
158 


MAIDEN  AND    WOOD-SAWYEi,.  159 

hope.  If  they  were  well  received  and  paid  for,  he  con- 
sidered his  fortunes  substantially  restored,  and  fame  al- 
most a  certainty  in  the  future.  If  he  could  only  produce 
a  few  more  manuscripts,  and  bridge  over  the  intervening 
time  until  he  could  hear  from  them,  he  felt  that  his  chief 
difficulties  would  be  past. 

Having  decided  to  do  a  laborer's  work,  he  at  once  re- 
solved to  exchange  his  elegant  broadcloth  for  a  laborer's 
suit,  and  he  managed  this  transfer  so  shrewdly  that  he 
obtained  quite  a  little  sum  of  money  in  addition. 

It  was  well  that  he  did  replenish  his  finances  somewhat, 
for  his  apparently  phlegmatic  landlord  was  as  wary  as  a 
veteran  mouser  in  looking  after  his  small  interests.  He 
had  just  obtained  an  inkling  as  to  Haldane's  identity, 
and,  while  he  was  not  at  all  chary  concerning  the  social 
and  moral  standing  of  his  few  uncertain  lodgers,  he  pro- 
posed henceforth  that  all  transactions  with  the  suspicious 
stranger  should  be  on  a  strictly  cash  basis. 

It  was  the  busy  spring-time,  and  labor  was  in  great  de- 
mand. Haldane  wandered  off  to  the  suburbs,  and,  as 
an  ordinary  laborer,  offered  his  services  in  cleaning  up 
yards,  cutting  wood,  or  forking  over  a  space  of  garden 
ground.  His  stalwart  form  and  prepossessing  appear- 
ance generally  secured  him  a  favorable  answer,  but  be- 
fore he  was  through  with  his  task  he  often  received  a 
sound  scolding  for  his  unskillful  and  bunghng  style  of 
work.  But  he  in  part  made  up  by  main  strength  what 
he  lacked  in  skill,  and  after  two  or  three  days  he  acquired 
considerable  deftness  in  his  unwonted  labors,  and  felt  the 
better  for  them.  They  counteracted  the  effects  of  his 
literary  efforts,  or,  more  correctly,  his  means  of  inspira- 
tion in  them. 

Thus  another  week  passed,  of  which  he  gave  three 
days  to  the  production  of  two  or  three  more  brief  manu- 
scripts, and  during  the  following  week  he  felt  sure  that 
he  would  hear  from  those  first  sent. 


IGO   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

He  wrote  throughout  the  hours  of  dayhght  on  Sunday, 
scarcely  leaving  his  chair,  and  drank  more  deeply  than 
usual.  In  consequence,  he  felt  wretchedly  on  Monday, 
and,  therefore,  strolled  off  to  look  for  some  employment 
that  would  not  tax  his  aching  head.  Hitherto  he  had 
avoided  all  locahties  where  he  would  be  apt  to  meet  those 
who  knew  him  ;  and  by  reason  of  his  brief  residence  in 
town  there  were  comparatively  few  who  were  familiar 
with  his  features.  He  now  recalled  the  fact  that  he  had 
often  seen  from  his  window,  while  an  inmate  of  Mrs.  Ar- 
not's  home,  quite  a  collection  of  cottages  across  a  small 
ravine  that  ran  a  little  back  of  that  lady's  residence.  He 
might  find  some  work  among  them,  and  he  yielded  to  the 
impulse  to  look  again  upon  the  place  where  such  rich 
and  abundant  happiness  had  once  seemed  within  his 
grasp. 

For  several  days  he  had  been  conscious  of  a  growing 
desire  to  hear  from  his  mother  and  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  often 
found  himself  wondering  how  they  regarded  his  mysteri- 
ous disappearance,  or  whether  reports  of  his  vain  inquiry 
for  work  had  reached  them. 

With  a  pride  and  resolution  that  grew  obstinate  with 
time  and  failure,  he  resolved  that  he  would  not  communi- 
cate with  them  until  he  had  something  favorable  to  tell  ; 
and  he  hoped,  and  almost  believed,  that  before  many 
days  passed,  he  could  address  to  them  a  hterary  weekly 
paper  in  which  they  would  find,  in  prominent  position, 
the  underscored  initials  of  E.  H.  Until  he  could  be  pre- 
ceded by  the  first  flashes  of  fame  he  would  remain  in  ob- 
scurity. He  would  not  even  let  Mrs.  Arnot  know  where 
he  was  hiding,  so  that  she  might  send  to  him  his  personal 
effects  left  at  her  house.  Indeed,  he  had  no  place  for 
them  now,  and  w^as,  besides,  more  morbidly  bent  than 
ever  on  making  good  the  proud  words  he  had  spoken. 
If,  in  the  face  of  such  tremendous  odds  he  could,  alone 
and  unaided,  with  nothing  but  his  hands  and  brain,  win 


MAIDEN  AND    WOOD-SA  WYER.  161 

again  all  and  more  than  he  had  lost,  he  could  compel 
the  respect  and  admiration  of  those  who  had  witnessed 
his  downfall  and  consequent  victorious  struggle. 

Was  the  girl  who  had  inspired  his  sudden,  and,  as  he 
had  supposed,  "  undying  "  passion,  forgotten  during  these 
trying  days?  Yes,  to  a  great  extent.  His  self-love  was 
greater  than  his  love  for  Laura  Romeyn.  He  craved  in- 
tensely to  prove  that  he  was  no  longer  a  proper  object  of 
her  scorn.  She  had  rejected  him  as  a  slave  to  "  disgust- 
ing vices  "  and  such  he  had  apparently  shown  himself  to 
be  ;  but  now  he  would  have  been  willing  to  have  dipped 
his  pen  in  his  own  blood,  and  have  written  away  his  life, 
if  thereby  he  could  have  filled  her  with  admiration  and 
regret.  Although  he  scarcely  acknowledged  it  to  himself, 
perhaps  the  subtlest  and  strongest  impulse  to  his  present 
course  was  the  hope  of  teaching  her  that  he  was  not  what 
she  now  regarded  him.  But  he  was  not  at  that  time  ca- 
pable of  a  strong,  true  affection  for  any  one,  and  thougiits 
of  the  pretty  maiden  wounded  his  pride  more  than  his 
heart. 

After  arriving  at  the  farther  bank  of  the  ravine,  back 
of  Mrs.  Arnot's  residence,  he  sat  down  for  a  while,  and 
gave  himself  up  to  a  very  bitter  revery.  There,  in  the 
bright  spring  sunshine,  was  the  beautiful  villa  which 
might  have  been  a  second  home  to  him.  The  gardener 
was  at  work  among  the  shrubbery,  and  the  sweet  breath 
of  crocuses  and  hyacinths  was  floated  to  him  on  the 
morning  breeze.  There  were  the  windows  of  his  airy, 
lovely  room,  in  comparison  with  which  the  place  in  which 
he  now  slept  was  a  kennel.  If  he  had  controlled  and 
hidden  his  passion,  if  he  had  waited  and  wooed  patiently, 
skillfully,  winning  first  esteem  and  friendship,  and  then 
affection,  yonder  garden  paths  might  have  witnessed 
many  happy  hours  spent  with  the  one  whom  he  loved  as 
well  as  he  could  love  any  one  save  himself.  But  now — 
and  he  cursed  himself  and  his  folly. 


162   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Poor  fellow  !  He  might  as  well  have  said,  "  If  I  had 
not  been  myself,  all  this  might  have  been  as  I  have  im- 
agined." He  had  acted  naturally,  and  in  accordance 
with  his  defective  character  ;  he  had  been  himself,  and 
that  was  the  secret  of  all  his  troubles.  He  sprang  up, 
exclaiming  in  anger, 

"  Mother  made  a  weak  fool  of  me,  and  I  was  willing  to 
be  a  fool.     Now  we  are  both  reaping  our  reward." 

He  went  off  among  the  cottages  looking  for  employ- 
ment, but  found  little  encouragement.  The  people  were, 
as  a  general  thing,  in  humble  circumstances,  and  did 
their  work  among  themselves.  But  at  last  he  found, 
near  the  ravine,  a  small  dwelling  standing  quite  apart 
from  any  others,  before  which  a  load  of  wood  had  been 
thrown.  The  poor  woman  whose  gateway  it  obstructed 
was  anxious  to  have  it  sawed  up  and  carried  to  her  little 
wood-shed,  but  was  disposed  to  haggle  about  the  price. 

"Give  me  w-hat  you  please,"  said  Haldane,  throwing 
off  his  coat ;  "  I  take  the  job  ;  "  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  youth  who  had  meditated  indefinite  heights  of 
"gloomy  grandeur"  appeared — save  to  the  initiated — as 
if  he  had  been  born  a  wood-sawyer. 

He  w^as  driving  his  saw  in  the  usual  strong,  dogged 
manner  in  which  he  performed  such  tasks,  when  a  light 
step  caused  him  to  look  up  suddenly,  and  he  found  him- 
self almost  face  to  face  with  Laura  Romeyn.  He  started 
violently  ;  the  blood  first  receded  from  his  face,  and  then 
rushed  tumultuously  back.  She,  too,  seemed  much  sur- 
prised and  startled,  and  stopped  hesitatingly,  as  if  she  did 
not  know  what  to  do.  But  Haldane  had  no  doubt  as  to 
his  course.  He  felt  that  he  had  no  right  to  speak  to  her, 
and  that  she  might  regard  it  as  an  insult  if  he  did  ;  there- 
fore he  bent  down  to  his  work  again  with  a  certain  proud 
humility  which  Laura,  even  in  her  perturbation,  did  not 
fail  to  notice. 

In  her  diffidence  and  confusion  she  continued  past  him 


MAIDEN  AND    WOOD-SAWYEB.  163 

a  few  steps,  and,  although  he  expected  nothing  less,  the 
fact  that  she  did  not  recognize  or  speak  to  him  cut  to 
his  heart  with  a  deeper  pain  than  he  had  yet  suffered. 
With  a  gesture  similar  to  that  which  he  made  when  she 
saw  him  on  the  way  to  prison,  he  dashed  his  hat  down 
over  his  eyes,  and  drove  his  saw  through  the  wood  with 
savage  energy. 

She  looked  at  him  doubtfully  for  a  moment,  then  yield- 
ing to  her  impulse,  came  to  his  side.  His  first  intimation 
of  her  presence  was  the  scarcely  heard  tones  of  her  voice 
mingling  with  the  harsh  rasping  of  the  saw. 

"  Will  you  not  speak  to  me,  Mr.  Haldane  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  dropped  his  saw,  stood  erect,  trembled  slightly,  but 
did  not  answer  or  even  raise  his  eyes  to  her  face.  His 
pain  was  so  great  he  was  not  sure  of  his  self-control. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  added  timidly,  "  you  do  not  wish  me 
to  speak  to  you." 

"  I  now  have  no  right  to  speak  to  you,  Miss  Romeyn," 
he  answered  in  a  tone  which  his  suppressed  feehngs  ren- 
dered constrained  and  almost  harsh. 

"  But  I  feel  sorry  for  you,"  said  she  quickly,  "and  so 
does  my  aunt,  and  she  greatly — " 

"  I  have  not  asked  for  your  pity,"  interrupted  Hal- 
dane, growing  more  erect  and  almost  haughty  in  his 
bearing,  quite  oblivious  for  a  moment  of  his  shirt-sleeves 
and  buck-saw.  What  is  more,  he  made  Laura  forget 
them  also,  and  his  manner  embarrassed  her  greatly.  She 
was  naturally  gentle  and  timid,  and  she  deferred  so  far 
to  his  mood  that  one  would  have  thought  that  she  was 
seeking  to  obtain  kindness  rather  than  to  confer  it. 

"You  misunderstand  me,"  said  she:  "I  do  respect 
you  for  the  brave  effort  you  are  making.  I  respect  jou 
for  doing  this  work.  You  cannot  think  it  strange,  though, 
that  I  am  sorry  for  all  that  has  happened.  But  I  did  not 
intend  to  speak  of  myself  at  all — of  Mrs.  Arnot  ratl>er, 
and  your  mother.     They  do  not  know  where  to  find  you, 


164  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  wish  to  see  and  hear  from  you  very  much.  Mrs. 
Arnot  has  letters  to  you  from  your  mother." 

"  The  time  shall  come — it  may  not  be  so  very  far  dis- 
tant, Miss  Romeyn — when  it  will  be  no  condescension  on 
your  part  to  speak  to  me,"  said  Haldane  loftily,  ignoring 
all  that  related  to  Mrs.  Arnot  and  his  mother,  even  if  he 
heard  it. 

"I  do  not  feel  it  to  be  condescension  now,"  replied 
Laura,  with  almost  the  frank  simplicity  of  a  child,  "  1 
cannot  help  feeling  sympathy  for  you,  even  though  you 
are  too  proud  to  receive  it."  Then  she  added,  with  a 
trace  of  dignity  and  maidenly  pride,  •'  Perhaps  when  you 
have  reahzed  your  hopes,  and  have  become  rich  or  fa- 
mous, I  may  not  choose  to  speak  to  you.  But  it  is  not 
my  nature  to  turn  from  any  one  in  misfortune,  much  less 
any  one  whom  I  have  known  well." 

He  looked  at  her  steadily  for  a  moment,  and  his  Hp 
quivered  slightly  with  his  softening  feeling. 

"You  do  not  scorn  me,  then,  like  the  rest  of  the 
world,"  said  he  in  a  low  tone. 

Tears  stood  in  the  young  girl's  eyes  as  slie  answered, 
"Mr.  Haldane,  I  do  feel  deeply  for  you;  I  know  you 
have  done  very  wrong,  but  that  only  makes  you  sufier 
more." 

"How  can  you  overlook  the  wrong  of  my  action? 
Others  think  I  am  not  fit  to  be  spoken  to,"  he  asked,  in 
a  still  lower  tone. 

"I  do  not  overlook  the  wrong,"  said  she,  gravely  ; 
"  it  seems  strange  and  terrible  to  me  ;  and  yet  I  do  feel 
sorry  for  you,  from  the  depths  of  my  heart,  and  I  wish  I 
could  help  you." 

"  You  have  helped  me,"  said  he,  impetuously  ;  "  you 
have  spoken  the  first  truly  kind  word  that  has  blessed 
me  since  I  bade  mother  good-by.  I  was  beginning  to 
hate  the  hard-hearted  animals  known  as  men  and  women. 
They  trample  me  down  Ifke  a  herd  of  buffaloes." 


3IAIDEN  AND    WOOD-SA  WYER.  165 

' '  Won't  you  go  with  me  and  see  Mrs.  Arnot  ?  She  has 
letters  for  you,  and  she  greatly  wishes  to  see  you." 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Why  not?" 

"  I  have  the  same  as  made  a  vow  that  I  will  never  ap- 
proach any  one  to  whom  I  held  my  old  relations  until  I 
regain  at  least  as  good  a  name  and  position  as  I  lost.  I 
little  thought  we  should  meet  soon  again,  if  ever,  and  still 
less  that  you  would  speak  to  me  as  you  have  done." 

"  I  had  been  takmg  some  dehcacies  from  aunde  to  a 
poor  sick  woman,  and  was  just  returning,"  said  Laura, 
blushing  shghtly.  "I  think  your  vow  is  very  wrong. 
Your  pride  brings  grief  to  your  mother,  and  pain  to  your 
good  friend,  Mrs,  Arnot." 

"I  cannot  help  it,"  said  he,  in  a  manner  that  was 
gloomy  and  almost  sullen  ;  "I  got  myself  into  this 
slough,  and  I  intend  to  get  myself  out  of  it.  I  shall  not 
take  alms  from  any  one." 

"A  mother  cannot  give  her  son  alms,"  said  Laura 
simply. 

"The  first  words  my  mother  said  to  me  when  my 
heart  was  breaking  were,  'You  have  disgraced  me.' 
When  I  have  accomphshed  that  which  will  honor  her  I 
will  return." 

' '  I  know  from  what  auntie  said  that  your  mother  did 
not  mean  any  unkindness,  and  you  surely  know  that  you 
have  a  friend  in  Mrs.  Arnot." 

"  Mrs.  Arnot  has  been  a  true  friend,  and  no  small  part 
of  my  punishment  is  the  thought  of  how  I  have  requited 
her  kindness.  I  reverence  and  honor  her  more  than  any 
other  woman,  and  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  so  much 
like  her.  You  both  seem  different  from  all  the  rest  of 
the  world.  But  I  shall  take  no  advantage  of  her  kindness 
or  yours." 

"Mr.  Haldane,"  said  Laura  gravely,  but  with  rising 
color,  "  I  am  not  a  woman.     In  years  and  feelings  I  am 


166  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

scarcely  more  than  a  child.  It  may  not  be  proper  or 
conventional  for  me  to  stop  and  talk  so  long  to  you,  but 
I  have  acted  from  the  natural  impulse  of  a  young  girl 
brought  up  in  a  secluded  country  home.  I  shall  return 
thither  to-morrow,  and  I  am  glad  I  have  seen  you  once 
more,  for  I  wished  you  to  know  that  I  did  feel  sorry  for 
you,  and  that  I  hoped  you  might  succeed.  I  greatly 
wish  you  would  see  Mrs.  Arnot,  or  let  me  tell  her  where 
she  can  see  you,  and  send  to  you  what  she  wishes.  She 
has  heard  of  you  once  or  twice,  but  does  not  know  where 
to  find  you.     Will  you  not  let  me  tell  her  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head  decidedly. 

"Well,  then,  good-by,"  said  she  kindly,  and  was 
about  to  depart. 

"Wait,"  he  said  hastily  ;  "will  you  do  me  one  small 
favor?" 

"  Yes,  if  I  ought." 

"  This  is  my  father's  watch  and  chain,"  he  continued, 
taking  them  off.  "They  are  not  safe  with  me  in  my 
present  life.  I  do  not  wish  to  have  it  in  my  power  to 
take  them  to  a  pawn-shop.  I  would  rather  starve  first, 
and  yet  I  would  rather  not  be  tempted.  I  can't  explain. 
You  cannot  and  should  not  know  any  thing  about  the 
world  in  which  I  am  living.  Please  give  these  to  Mrs. 
Arnot,  and  ask  her  to  keep  them  till  I  come  fo'-  Liiem  ;  or 
she  can  send  them,  with  the  rest  of  my  effects,  to  my 
mother.  I  have  detained  you  too  long  already.  What- 
ever may  be  my  fate,  I  shall  always  remember  you  with 
the  deepest  gratitude  and  respect." 

There  was  distress  in  Laura's  face  as  he  spoke  ;  but 
she  took  the  watch  and  chain  without  a  word,  for  she 
saw  that  he  was  fully  resolved  upon  his  course. 

"  I  know  that  Mrs.  Arnot  will  respect  my  wish  to  re- 
main in  obscurity  until  I  can  come  with  a  character  dif- 
fering from  that  which  I  now  bear.  Your  life  would  be 
a  very  happy  one,   Miss  Romeyn,   if  my  wishes  could 


MAIDEN  AND   WOOD-SAWYER.  167 

make  it  so;"  and  the  wood-sawyer  bowed  his  farewell 
with  the  grace  and  dignity  of  a  gentleman,  in  spite  of  his 
coarse  laborer's  garb.  He  then  resumed  his  work,  to 
the  great  relief  of  the  woman,  who  had  caught  glimpses 
of  the  interview  from  the  window,  wondering  and  sur- 
mising why  the  "young  ieddy  from  the  big  house" 
should  have  so  much  to  say  to  a  wood-sawyer. 

"  If  she  had  a-given  him  a  tract  upon  leavin',  it  would 
a-seemed  more  nateral  like,"  she  explained  to  a  crony 
the  latter  part  of  the  day. 

Mrs.  Arnot  did  respect  Haldane's  desire  to  be  left  ta 
himself  until  he  came  in  the  manner  that  his  pride  dic- 
tated ;  but,  after  hearing  Laura's  story,  she  cast  many  a 
wistful  glance  toward  the  one  who,  in  spite  of  his  grave 
faults  and  weakness,  deeply  interested  her,  and  she 
sighed, 

"  He  must  learn  by  hard  experience." 

"  Did  I  do  wrong  in  speaking  to  him,  auntie?  "  Laura 
asked. 

"  I  do  not  think  so.  Your  motive  was  natural  and 
kindly  ;  and  yet  I  would  not  like  you  to  meet  him  again 
until  he  is  wholly  different  in  character,  if  that  dme  ever 
comes." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

MAGNANIMOUS    MR.    SHRUMPF. 

After  the  excitement  caused  by  his  unexpected  inter- 
view with  Laura  subsided,  and  Haldane  was  able  to 
think  it  over  quietly,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  burned 
his  ships  behind  him.  He  must  now  make  good  his 
proud  words,  for  to  go  "  crawling  back  "  after  what  he 
had  said  to-day,  and,  of  all  persons,  to  the  one  whose 
opinion  he  most  valued — this  would  be  a  humiliation  the 
thought  of  which  even  he  could  not  endure. 

Having  finished  his  task,  he  scarcely  glanced  at  the 
pittance  which  the  woman  reluctantly  gave  him,  and 
went  straight  to  the  city  post-office.  He  was  so  agitated 
v;ith  conflicting  hopes  and  fears  that  his  voice  trembled 
as  he  asked  if  there  were  any  letters  addressed  to  E,  H., 
and  he  was  so  deeply  disappointed  that  he  was  scarcely 
willing  to  take  the  careless  negative  given.  He  even 
went  to  the  express  office,  in  the  vague  hope  that  the 
wary  editors  had  remitted  through  them  ;  and  the  leaden 
weight  of  despondency  grew  heavier  at  each  brisk  state- 
nent  : 

"  Nothing  for  E.  H." 

He  was  so  weary  and  low-spirited  when  he  reached  his 
dismal  lodgings  that  he  felt  no  disposition  to  either  eat  or 
drink,  but  sat  down  in  the  back  part  of  the  wretched, 
musty  saloon,  and,  drawing  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  he 
gave  himself  up  to  bitter  thoughts.  With  mental  impre- 
cations he  cursed  himself  that  he  had  not  better  under- 
stood the  young  girl  who  once  had  been  his  companion. 
Never  before  had  she  seemed  so  beautiful  as  to-day,  and 
she  had  revealed  a  forming  character  as  lovely  as  her 
168 


MAGXAXniOUS  MR.   SHBUMPF.  169 

person.  She  was  like  Mrs.  Arnot — the  woman  who 
seemed  to  him  perfect — and  what  more  could  he  say  in 
her  praise?  And  yet  his  folly  had  placed  between  them 
an  impassable  gulf.  He  was  not  misled  by  her  kindness, 
for  he  remembered  her  words,  and  now  believed  them, 
"  If  I  ever  love  a  man  he  will  be  one  that  I  can  look  up 
to  and  respect."  If  he  could  only  have  recognized  her 
noble  tendencies  he  might  have  resolutely  set  about  be- 
coming such  a  man.  If  his  character  had  been  pleasing 
to  her,  his  social  position  would  have  given  him  the  right 
to  have  aspired  to  her  hand.  Why  had  he  not  had  suf- 
ficient sense  to  have  realized  that  she  was  young — much 
too  young  to  understand  his  rash,  hasty  passion?  Why 
could  he  not  have  learned  from  her  pure,  delicate  face 
that  she  might  possibly  be  won  by  patient  and  manly  de- 
votion^  but  would  be  forever  repelled  from  the  man  who 
wooed  her  like  a  Turk  ? 

In  the  light  of  experience  he  saw  his  mistakes.  From 
his  present  depth  he  looked  up,  and  saw  the  inestimable 
vantage  ground  which  he  once  possessed.  In  his  deep 
despondency  he  feared  he  never  would  regain  it,  and 
that  his  hopes  of  literary  success  would  prove  delusive. 

Regret  like  a  cold,  November  wind,  swept  through  all 
his  thoughts  and  memories,  and  there  seemed  nothing 
before  him  but  a  chill  winter  of  blight  and  failure  that 
would  have  no  spring. 

But  he  was  not  left  to  indulge  his  miserable  mood  very 
long,  for  his  mousing  landlord — having  finally  learned 
who  Haldane  was,  and  all  the  unfavorable  facts  and 
comments  with  which  the  press  had  abounded — now  con- 
cluded that  he  could  pounce  upon  him  in  such  a  way 
that  something  would  be  left  in  his  claws  before  the  vic- 
tim could  escape. 

That  very  morning  Haldane  had  paid  for  his  board  to 
date,  but  had  thoughtlessly  neglected  to  have  a  witness 
or  take  a  receipt.     The  grizzled  grimalkin  who  kept  the 


170   KNUniT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURT. 

<lcn,  and  thrived  as  much  by  his  small  filchings  as  from 
his  small  profits,  had  purred  to  himself,  "  Very  goot, 
very  goot,"  on  learning  that  Haldane's  word  would  not 
be  worth  much  with  the  public  or  in  court ;  and  no  yel- 
low-eyed cat  ever  waited  and  watched  for  his  prey  with 
a  quieter  and  cooler  deliberation  than  did  Weitzel 
ijhrumpf,  the  host  of  the  dingy  little  hotel. 

After  Haldane  appeared  he  delayed  until  a  few  cronies 
•whom  he  could  depend  upon  had  dropped  in,  and  then, 
in  an  off-hand  way,  stepped  up  to  the  despondent  youth, 
and  said  : 

"  I  zay,  mister,  you  been  here  zvvei  week  ;  I  want  you 
bay  me  now." 

"  What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Haldane,  looking  up 
•with  an  uncomprehending  stare. 

•'  Dis  is  vot  I  means  ;  you  buts  me  off  long  nuff.  I 
vants  zvvei  weeks'  bort." 

"  I  paid  you  for  every  thing  up  to  this  morning,  and  I 
have  had  nothing  since." 

"  O,  you  have  baid  me — strange  I  did  not  know,  Vill 
you  bays  now  ven  I  does  know?  " 

"  I  tell  you  I  have  paid  you  !  "  said  Haldane,  starting 
lip. 

"  Veil,  veil,  show  me  der  receipt,  an  I  says  not  von 
vort  against  him." 

"You  did  not  give  me  a  receipt." 

"  No,  I  tinks  not — not  my  vay  to  give  him  till  I  gits  de 
tmoneys." 

"  You  are  an  unmitigated  scoundrel.  I  won't  pay  you 
another  cent." 

"Lock  dat  door,  Carl,"  said  the  landlord,  coolly,  to 
one  of  his  satellites.  "  Now,  Mister  Haldane,  you  bays, 
•or  you  goes  to  jail.  You  has  been  dare  vonce,  an  I'll 
but  you  dare  dis  night  if  you  no  bays  me." 

"Gentlemen,  I  appeal  to  you  to  prevent  this  down- 
right  villainy,"  cried  Haldane. 


MAGNANIMOUS  3IR.    SHRUMPF.  Ill 

"  I  sees  no  villainy,"  said  one  of  the  lookers-on,  stol- 
idly.     "  You  shows  your  receipt,  and  he  no  touch  you." 

"  I  neglected  to  take  ?.  receipt.  I  did  not  know  I  was 
dealing  with  a  thief." 

"Ho,  ho,  ho!"  laughed  the  landlord;  "he  tinks  1 
vas  honest  like  himself,  who  vas  jus'  out  of  jail!  " 

"I  won't  pay  you  twice,"  said  Haldane  doggedly. 

"Carl,  call  de  policeman,  den." 

"  Wait  a  moment  ;  your  rascality  will  do  you  no  good,, 
and  may  get  you  into  trouble.  I  have  very  little  money 
left." 

"  Den  you  can  leave  your  vatch  till  you  brings  de 
money." 

"  Ah,  thank  Heaven  !  that  is  safe,  and  beyond  your 
clutches." 

"  In  a  pawn-shop  ?  or  vas  he  stolen,  like  de  tousand 
dollar,  and  you  been  made  give  him  up?  " 

Haldane  had  now  recovered  himself  sufficiently  to 
reahze  that  he  was  in  an  ugly  predicament.  He  was  not 
sufficiently  familiar  with  the  law  to  know  how  much 
power  his  persecutor  had,  but  feared,  with  good  reason,, 
that  some  kind  of  a  charge  could  be  trumped  up  which 
would  lead  to  his  being  locked  up  for  the  night.  Then- 
would  follow  inevitably  another  series  of  paragraphs  in 
the  papers,  deepening  the  dark  hues  in  which  they  had 
already  portrayed  his  character.  He  could  not  endure 
the  thought  that  the  last  knowledge  of  him  that  Laura 
carried  away  with  her  from  Hillaton  should  be  that  he 
was  again  in  jail,  charged  with  trying  to  steal  his  board 
and  lodging  from  a  poor  and  ignorant  foreigner  ;  for  he 
foresaw  that  the  astute  Shrumpf,  his  German  landlord, 
would  appear  in  the  police  court  in  the  character  of  an 
injured  innocent.  He  pictured  the  disgust  upon  her  face 
as  she  saw  his  name  in  the  vile  connection  which  this 
new  arraignment  would  occasion,  and  he  felt  that  he 
must     escape    it    if    possible.      Although    enraged    at 


172   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Shrumpf's  false  charge,  he  was  cool  enough  lo  remember 
that  he  had  nothing  to  oppose  to  it  save  his  own  unsup- 
ported word  ;  and  what  was  that  worth  in  Hillaton  ?  The 
public  would  even  be  inclined  to  believe  the  opposite  of 
Avhat  he  affirmed.  Therefore,  by  a  great  effort,  he  re- 
gained his  self-control,  and  said  firmly  and  quietly  : 

"  Shrumpf,  although  you  know  I  have  paid  you,  I  am 
yet  in  a  certain  sense  within  your  power,  since  I  did  not 
take  your  receipt.  I  have  not  much  money  left,  but 
after  I  have  taken  out  fifty  cents  for  my  supper  and  bed 
you  can  take  all  the  rest.  My  watch  is  in  the  hands  of  a 
friend,  and  you  can't  get  that,  and  you  can't  get  any 
more  than  I  have  by  procuring  my  arrest ;  so  take  your 
choice.  I  don't  want  to  have  trouble  with  you,  but  I 
won't  go  out  penniless  and  spend  the  night  in  the  street, 
and  if  you  send  for  a  policeman  I  will  make  you  all  the 
trouble  I  can,  and  I  promise  you  it  will  not  be  a  little." 

Herr  Shrumpf,  conscious  that  he  was  on  rather  deli- 
cate ground,  and  remembering  that  he  was  already  in 
bad  odor  with  the  police  authorities,  assumed  a  great 
show  of  generosity. 

"  I  vill  not  be  tough,"  he  said,  "  ven  a  man's  boor  and 
does  all  vat  he  can  ;  I  knows  my  rights,  and  I  stands  up 
for  him,  but  ven  I  gits  him  den  I  be  Hke  von  leetle  lamb. 
I  vill  leave  you  tree  quarter  dollar,  and  you  bays  der 
rest  vat  you  have,  and  ve  says  nothing  more  'bout 
him." 

"You  are  right — the  least  said  the  better  about  this 
transaction.  I've  been  a  fool,  and  you  are  a  knave,  and 
that  is  all  there  is  to  say.  Here  are  seventy-five  cents, 
which  I  keep,  and  there  are  four  dollars,  which  is  all  I 
have — every  cent.  Now^  unlock  your  door  and  let  me 
out." 

"  I  tinks  you  has  more." 

"  You  can  search  my  pockets  if  you  wish.  If  you  do, 
I  call  upon  these  men  present  to  witness  the  act,  for,  as  I 


3IAGXANniOUS  JIB.    SHRUMPF.  173 

have  said,  if  you  go  beyond  a  certain  point  I  will  make 
you  trouble,  and  justly,  too." 

"  Nah,  nah  !  vat  for  I  do  so  mean  a  ting  ?  You  but 
your  hand  in  my  bocket  ven  you  takes  my  dinners,  my 
lagers,  and  my  brandies,  but  I  no  do  vat  no  shentlemens 
does.  You  can  go,  and  ven  you  brings  de  full  moneys 
for  zwei  weeks'  bort  I  gives  you  receipt  for  him." 

Haldane  vouchsafed  no  reply,  but  hastened  away,  as 
a  fly  would  escape  from  a  spider's  web.  The  episode, 
intensely  disagreeable  as  it  was,  had  the  good  effect  of 
arousmg  him  out  of  the  paralysis  of  his  deep  despond- 
ency. Besides,  he  could  not  help  congratulating  him- 
self that  he  had  avoided  another  arrest  and  all  the 
wretched  experience  which  must  have  followed. 

He  concluded  that  there  was  no  other  resource  for  him 
that  night  save  "  No.  13,"  the  lodging-house  in  the  side 
street  where  "no  questions  were  asked;"  and,  having 
stolen  into  another  obscure  restaurant,  he  obtained  such 
a  supper  as  could  be  had  for  twenty-five  cents.  He  then 
sought  his  former  miserable  refuge,  and,  as  he  could  not 
pay  extra  for  a  private  room  on  this  occasion — for  he 
must  keep  a  little  money  for  his  breakfast — there  was 
nothing  for  him,  therefore,  but  to  obtain  what  rest  he 
could  in  a  large,  stifling  room,  half  filled  with  miserable 
waifs  like  himself.  He  managed  to  get  a  bed  near  a 
window,  which  he  raised  slightly,  and  fatigue  soon 
brought  oblivion. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A   MAN   WHO    HATED    HIMSELF. 

The  light  of  the  following  day  brought  little  hope  or 
courage  ;  but  Haldane  started  out,  after  a  meager  break- 
fast, to  find  some  means  of  obtaining  a  dinner  and  a 
place  to  sleep.  He  was  not  as  successful  as  usual,  and 
noon  had  passed  before  he  found  any  thing  to  do. 

As  he  was  plodding  wearily  along  through  a  suburb  he 
heard  some  one  behind  a  high  board  fence  speaking  so 
loudly  and  angrily  that  he  stopped  to  listen,  and  was  not 
a  little  surprised  to  find  that  the  man  was  talking  to  him- 
self. For  a  few  moments  there  was  a  sound  of  a  saw, 
and  when  it  ceased,  a  harsh,  querulous  voice  commenced 
again  : 

"  A-a-h " — it  would  seem  that  the  man  thus  given  to 
soliloquy  often  began  and  finished  his  sentences  with  a 
vindictive  and  prolonged  guttural  sound  hke  that  here 
indicated — ''Miserable  hand  at  sawin'  wood!  Why 
don't  you  let  some  one  saw  it  that  knows  how  ?  Tryin' 
to  save  a  half  dollar,  when  you  know  it'll  give  you  the 
rheumatiz,  and  cost  ten  in  doctor  bills  !  'Nother  thing  ; 
it's  mean — mean  as  dirt.  You  know  there's  poor  devils 
M-ho  need  the  work,  and  you're  cheatin'  'em  out  of  it. 
But  it's  just  like  yer  !  A-a-h  !  "  and  then  the  saw  began 
again. 

Haldane  was  inclined  to  believe  that  this  irascible 
stranger  was  as  providential  as  the  croaking  ravens  that 
fed  the  prophet,  and  he  promptly  sought  the  gate  and  en- 
tered. An  old  man  looked  up  in  some  surprise.  He  was 
short  in  stature  and  had  the  stoop  of  one  who  is  bending 
174 


A   MAN    WHO   HATED   HIMSELF.  175 

under  the  weight  of  years  and  infirmities.  His  features 
were  as  withered  and  brown  as  a  russet  apple  that  had 
been  kept  long  past  its  season,  and  his  head  was  sur- 
mounted by  a  shock  of  white  locks  that  bristled  out  in  all 
directions,  as  if  each  particular  hair  was  on  bad  terms 
with  its  neighbors.  Curious  seams  and  wrinkles  gave  the 
continuous  impression  that  the  old  gentleman  had  just 
swallowed  something  very  bitter,  and  was  making  a  wry 
face  over  it.  But  Haldane  was  in  no  mood  for  the  study 
of  physiognomy  and  character,  however  interesting  a 
subject  he  might  stumble  upon,  and  he  said, 

"  I  am  looking  for  a  little  work,  and  with  your  permis- 
sion I  will  saw  that  wood  for  whatever  you  are  willing  to 
pay." 

"  That  won't  be  much." 

"  It  will  be  enough  to  get  a  hungry  man  a  dinner." 

"  Haven't  you  had  any  dinner?  " 

"No." 

"  Why  didn't  you  ask  for  one,  then  ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  ask  you  for  a  dinner?" 

"  Why  shouldn't  you  ?  If  I  be  a  tight-fisted  man,  I'm 
not  mean  enough  to  refuse  a  hungry  man." 

"  Give  me  some  work,  and  I  can  buy  my  dinner." 

"  What's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Egbert  Haldane." 

*'  Ah  ha !     That  name's  been  in  the  papers  lately." 

"  Yes,  and  /  have  been  in  jail." 

"  And  do  you  expect  me  to  have  a  man  around  that's 
been  in  jail  ?  " 

"No;  I  don't  expect  any  humanity  from  any  human 
being  that  knows  anything  about  me.  I  am  treated  as  if 
I  were  the  devil  himself,  and  hadn't  the  power  or  wish 
to  do  anything  save  rob  and  murder.  The  public  should 
keep  such  as  I  am  in  prison  the  rest  of  our  lives,  or  else 
cut  our  throats.  But  this  sending  us  out  in  the  world  to 
starve,  and  to  be  kicked  and  cuffed  during  the  process, 


176    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

is  scarcely  in  keeping  with  the  Bible  civiUzation  they  are 
always  boasting  of." 

He  spoke  recklessly  and  bitterly,  and  his  experience 
made  his  words  appear  to  him  only  too  true.  But  his 
shriveled  and  shrunken  auditor  grinned  appreciatively, 
and  said,  with  more  than  his  usual  vindictive  emphasis, 

"  A-a-h!  that's  the  right  kind  of  talk.  Now  you're 
gittin'  past  all  this  make-believin'  to  the  truth.  We're  a 
cussed  mean  set — we  folks  who  go  to  church  and  read 
the  Bible,  and  then  do  just  what  the  devil  tells  us, 
a-helpin'  him  along  all  the  time.  Satan's  got  a  strong  grip 
on  you,  from  all  I  hear,  and  we're  all  a-helpin'  him  keep 
it.  You've  gone  halfway  to  the  devil,  and  all  the  good 
people  tell  you  to  go  the  rest  of  the  way,  for  they  won't 
have  any  thing  to  do  with  you.     Hain't  that  the  way  ?  " 

"  O,  no,"  said  Haldane  with  a  bitter  sneer  ;  "  some  of 
the  good  people  to  whom  you  refer  put  themselves  out  so 
far  as  to  give  me  a  httle  advice." 

"  What  was  it  wuth  to  you  ?  Which  would  you  ruther 
— some  good  advice  from  me,  or  the  job  of  sawin'  the 
wood  there  ?  " 

"  Give  me  the  saw — no  matter  about  the  advice,"  said 
Haldane,  throwing  off  his  coat. 

"A-a-h  !  wasn't  I  a  fool  to  ask  that  question  ?  Well, 
I  don't  belong  to  the  good  people,  so  go  ahead — I  don't 
s'pose  you  know  much  about  sawin'  wood,  bro't  up  as 
you've  been  ;  but  you  can't  do  it  wuss  than  me.  I  don't 
belong  to  any  one.  What  I  was  made  for  I  can't  see, 
unless  it  is  to  be  a  torment  to  myself.  Nobody  can  stand 
me.  I  can't  stand  myself.  I've  got  a  cat  and  dog  that 
will  stay  wnth  me,  and  sometimes  I'll  git  up  and  kick  'em 
jest  for  the  chance  of  cussin'  myself  for  doin'  it." 

"  And  yet  you  are  the  first  man  in  town  that  has  shown 
me  any  practical  kindness,"  said  Haldane,  placing  an- 
other stick  on  his  saw-buck. 

"  Well,  I  kinder  do  it  out  o'  spite  to  myself.     There's 


A   MAN   WHO  HATED   HIMSELF.  Ill 

somethin'  inside  of  me  savin'  all  the  time,  '  Why  are  you 
spendin'  time  and  money  on  this  young  scape-grace  ? 
It'll  end  in  your  havin'  to  give  him  a  dinner,  for  you 
can't  be  so  blasted  mean  as  to  let  him  go  without  it,  and 
yet  all  the  time  you're  wishin'  that  you  needn't  do  it," 

"  Well,  you  need  not,"  said  Haldane. 

"  Yes,  I  must,  too." 

"  All  I  ask  of  you  is  what  you  think  this  work  is  worth.  " 

"  Weil,  that  ain't  all  I  ask  of  my  confounded  old  self. 
Here,  you're  hungry  you  say — s'pose  you  tell  the  truth 
sometimes  ;  here  you're  down,  and  all  the  respectable 
people  sittin'  down  hard  on  you  ;  here  you  are  in  the 
devil's  clutches,  and  he's  got  you  halfway  toward  the 
brimstone,  and  I'm  grudgin'  you  a  dinner,  even  when  I 
know  I've  got  to  give  it  to  you.  That's  what  I  call  bein' 
mean  and  a  fool  both.     A-a-h  !  " 

Haldane  stopped  a  moment  to  indulge  in  the  first 
laugh  he  had  enjoyed  since  his  arrest. 

"  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me,  my  venerable  friend," 
said  he  ;  "  but  you  have  a  rather  strangely  honest  way 
of  talking."  « 

"  I'm  old,  but  I  ain't  venerable.  j\Iy  name  is  Jeremiah 
Growther,"  was  the  snarling  reply. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  have  too  much  conscience,  ^\r. 
Growther.  It  won't  let  you  do  comfortably  what  others 
do  as  a  matter  of  course." 

"  I've  nothin*  to  do  with  other  people.  I  know  what's 
right,  and  I'm  all  the  time  hatin'  to  do  it.  That's  the 
mean  thing  about  me  which  I  can't  stand.     A-a-h  !  " 

"  I'm  sorry  my  coming  has  made  you  so  out  of  sorts 
with  yourself." 

"  If  it  ain't  you  it's  somethin'  else.  I  ain't  more  out  of 
sorts  than  usual." 

"  Well,  you'll  soon  be  rid  of  me — I'll  be  through  in  an 
hour." 

"  Yes,  and  here  it  is  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  and 


178   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

you  haven't  had  your  dinner  yet,  and  for  all  I  know,  no 
breakfast  nuther.  I  was  precious  careful  to  have  both  of 
mine,  and  find  it  very  comfortable  standin'  here  a-growlin' 
while  you're  workin'  on  an  empty  stomach.  But  it's  just 
like  me.  A-a-h  !  I'll  call  you  in  a  few  minutes,  and  I 
won't  pay  you  a  cent  unless  you  come  in  ;  "  and  the  old 
man  started  for  the  small  dilapidated  cottage  which  he 
shared  with  the  cat  and  dog  that,  as  he  stated,  managed 
to  worry  along  with  him. 

But  he  had  not  taken  many  steps  before  he  stumbled 
slightly  against  a  loose  stone,  and  he  stopped  for  a  mo- 
ment, as  if  he  could  find  no  language  equal  to  the  occa- 
sion, and  then  commenced  such  a  tirade  of  abuse  with 
his  poor  weazen  little  self  as  its  object,  that  one  would 
naturally  feel  like  taking  sides  with  the  decrepit  body 
against  the  vindictive  spirit.  Haldane  would  have 
knocked  a  stranger  down  had  he  said  half  as  much  to 
the  old  gentleman,  who  seemed  bent  on  befriending  him 
after  his  own  odd  fashion.  But  the  irate  old  man  finished 
his  objurgation  with  the  words  : 

"What's  one  doin'  above  ground  who  can't  lift  his 
foot  over  a  stone  only  an  inch  high  ?  A-a-h  !  "  and  then 
he  went  on,  and  disappeared  in  the  house,  from  the  open 
door  of  which  not  long  after  came  the  savory  odor  of 
coffee. 

Partly  to  forget  his  miserable  self  in  his  employer's 
strange  manner,  and  partly  because  he  was  almost  faint 
from  hunger,  Haldane  concluded  to  accept  this  first 
invitation  to  dine  out  in  Hillaton,  resolving  that  he  would 
do  his  queer  host  some  favor  to  make  things  even. 

"  Come  in,"  shouted  Mr.  Growther  a  few  minutes 
later. 

Haldane  entered  quite  a  large  room,  which  presented 
an  odd  aspect  of  comfort  and  disorder. 

"  There's  a  place  to  wash  your  hands,  if  you  think  it's 
wuth  while.     I  don't  often,  but  I  hope  there's  few  like 


A   MAN   WHO  HATED  HUISELF,  179 

me,"  said  the  busy  host,  hfting  the  frying-pan  from  some 
coals,  and  emptying  from  it  a  generous  sHce  of  ham  and 
three  or  four  eggs  on  a  platter. 

"  I  like  your  open  fire-place,"  said  Haldane,  looking 
curiously  around  the  hermitage  as  he  performed  his  ab- 
lutions. 

"That's  a  nutber  of  my  weaknesses.  I  know  a  stove 
would  be  more  convenient  and  economical,  but  I  hate 
all  improvements." 

"  One  would  think,  from  what  you  said,  your  cat  and 
dog  had  a  hard  time  of  it  ;  but  two  more  sleek,  fat,  and 
lazy  animals  I  never  saw." 

"No  thanks  to  me.  I  s'pose  they've  got  clear  con- 
sciences." 

As  the  table  began  to  fairly  groan  with  good  things, 
Haldane  said, 

"  Look  here,  IMr.  Growther,  are  you  in  the  habit  of 
giving  disreputable  people  such  a  dinner  as  that  ?  " 

"  If  it's  good  enough  for  me,  it's  good  enough  for 
you,"  was  the  tart  reply. 

"  O,  I'm  not  finding  fault  ;  I  only  wanted  you  to  know 
that  I  would  be  grateful  for  much  less." 

"  I'm  not  doin'  it  to  please  you,  but  to  spite  myself." 

"  Have  your  own  way,  of  course,"  said  Haldane, 
laughing  ;  "  it's  a  little  odd,  though,  that  your  spite 
against  yourself  should  mean  so  much  practical  kindness 
to  me." 

"  Hold  on  !  "  cried  his  host,  as  Haldane  was  about  to 
attack  the  viands  ;    "  ain't  you  goin'  to  say  grace  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  young  man,  somewhat  embarrassed, 
"  I  would  rather  you  would  say  it  for  me." 

"  I  might  as  well  eat  your  dinner  for  you." 

"  Mr.  Growther,  you  are  an  unusually  honest  man, 
and  I  think  a  kind  one  ;  so  I  am  not  going  to  act  out  any 
lies  before  you.  Although  your  dinner  is  the  best  one  I 
have  seen  for  many  a  long  day,  or  am  likely  to  see,  yet. 


180  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  could  swear  over  it  easier  than  I 
could  pray  over  it." 

"  A-a-h  !  that's  the  right  spirit  ;  that's  the  way  I  ought 
to  feel.  Now  you  see  what  a  mean  hypocrite  I  am.  I'm 
no  Christian — far  from  it — and  yet  I  always  have  a 
sneakin'  wish  to  say  grace  over  my  victuals.  As  if  it 
would  do  any  body  any  good  !  If  I'd  jest  swear  over 
'em,  as  you  say,  then  I  would  be  consistent." 

"  Are  you  in  earnest  in  all  this  strange  talk  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  ;  I  hate  myself." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  know  all  about,  myself.     A-a-h  !  " 

"  How  many  poor,  hungry  people  have  you  fed  since 
the  year  opened  ?  " 

"  Your  question  shows  me  jest  what  I  am.  I  could 
tell  you  within  three  or  four.  I  found  myself  a-countin' 
of  'em  up  and  a-gloryin'  in  it  all  the  tother  night,  takin* 
credit  to  myself  for  givin'  away  a  few  victuals  after  I  had 
had  plenty  myself.  Think  of  a  man  gittin'  self-righteous 
over  givin'  to  some  poor  fellow-critters  what  he  couldn't 
eat  himself!     If  that  ain't  meanness,  what  is  it?   A-a-h  !  " 

"  But  you  haven't  told  me  how  many  you  have  fed." 

"  No,  and  I  ain't  a-goin'  to — ^jest  to  spite  myself.  I 
want  to  tell  you,  and  to  take  credit  for  it,  but  I'll  head 
myself  off  this  time." 

"  But  you  could  eat  these  things  which  you  are  serving 
to  me — if  not  to-day,  why,  then  to-morrow," 

"  To-morrow's  income  will  provide  for  to-morrow.  The 
Lord  shows  He's  down  on  this  savin'  and  hoardin'  up  of 
things,  for  He  makes  'em  get  musty  right  away  ;  and  if 
any  thing  spiles  on  my  hands  I'm  mad  enough  to  bite 
myself  in  two." 

"  But  if  you  treat  all  stragglers  as  you  do  me,  you  do 
not  give  away  odds  and  ends  and  what's  left  over.  This 
coffee  is  fine  old  Java,  and  a  more  delicate  ham  I  never 
tasted." 


A   MAN   WHO  HATED  HIMSELF.  181 

"  Now  you  hit  me  twice.  I  will  have  the  best  for  my- 
self, instead  of  practicin*  self-denial  and  economy.  Then 
I'm  always  wantin'  to  get  some  second-hand  victuals  to 
give  away,  but  I  daresn't.  You  see  I  read  the  Bible 
sometimes,  and  it's  the  most  awfully  oncomfortable  book 
that  ever  was  written.  You  know  what  the  Lord  says  in 
it — or  you  ought  to — about  what  we  do  for  the  least  of 
these  His  brethren  ;  that  means  such  as  you,  only  you're 
a  sort  of  black  sheep  in  the  family  ;  and  if  words  have 
any  sense  at  all,  the  Lord  takes  my  givin'  you  a  dinner 
the  same  as  if  I  gave  it  to  Him.  Now  s'pose  the  Lord 
came  to  my  house,  as  He  did  to  Mary  and  Martha's,  and  I 
should  git  Him  up  a  shmpsy  dinner  of  second-hand  victuals, 
and  stand  by  a-chuckhn'  that  I  had  saved  twenty-five 
cents  on  it,  wouldn't  that  be  meanness  itself?  Some 
time  ago  I  had  a  ham  that  I  couldn't  and  wouldn't  eat, 
and  they  wouldn't  take  it  back  at  the  store,  so  I  got  some 
of  the  Lord's  poor  brethren  to  come  to  dinner,  and  I 
palmed  it  off  on  them.  But  I  had  to  cuss  myself  the 
whole  evenin'  to  pay  up  for  it !     A-a-h  !  " 

"By  Jove!"  cried  Haldane,  dropping  his  knife  and 
fork,  and  looking  admiringly  at  his  host,  who  stood  on 
the  hearth,  running  his  fingers  through  his  shock  of  white 
hair,  his  shriveled  and  bristling  aspect  making  a  marked 
contrast  with  his  sleek  and  lazy  cat  and  dog — "  by  Jove, 
you  are  what  I  call  a  Christian  !  " 

"Now,  look  here,  young  man,"  said  Mr.  Growther, 
wrathfuUy,  "though  you  are  under  no  obligations  to  me, 
you've  got  no  business  makin'  game  of  me  and  callin'  me 
names,  and  I  won't  stand  it.  You've  got  to  be  civil  and 
speak  the  truth  while  you're  on  my  premises,  whether 
you  want  to  or  no." 

Haldane  shrugged  his  shoulders,  laughed,  and  made 
haste  with  his  dinner,  for  with  such  a  gusty  and  variable 
host  he  might  not  get  a  chance  to  finish  it.  As  he  glanced 
around  the  room,  however,  and  saw  how  cozy  and  invit- 


182  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

intj  it  might  be  made  by  a  little  order  and  homelike 
arrangement,  he  determined  to  fix  it  up  according  to  his 
own  ideas,  if  he  could  accomplish  it  without  actually 
coming  to  blows  with  the  occupant. 

"  Who  keeps  house  for  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  nobody  could  stand  me  !  " 

"  Will  you  stand  me  for  about  half  an  hour  while  I  fix 
up  this  room  for  you  ?  " 

"No!  •• 

"What  will  you  do  if  I  attempt  it?" 

"  I'll  set  the  dog  on  you." 

"Nothing  worse?"  asked  Haldane,  with  a  laughing 
glance  at  the  lazy  cur. 

"  You  might  take  something." 

An  expression  of  sharp  pain  crossed  the  young  man's 
face  ;  the  sunshine  faded  out  of  it  utterly,  and  he  said  in 
a  cold,  constrained  voice,  as  he  rose  from  the  table, 

"  O,  I  forgot  for  a  moment  that  I  am  a  thief  in  the 
world's  estimation." 

"That  last  remark  of  mine  was  about  equal  to  a  kick, 
wasn't  it? " 

"  A  little  worse." 

"  Ain't  you  used  to  'em  yet  ? " 

"  I  ought  to  be." 

"  Why,  do  many  speak  out  as  plain  as  that  ?  " 

"  They  act  it  out  just  as  plainly.  Since  you  don't  trust 
me,  you  had  better  watch  me,  lest  I  put  some  cord-wood 
in  my  pocket." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  do?  " 

"  If  the  world  is  going  to  insist  upon  it  that  I  am  a 
scoundrel  to  the  end  of  the  chapter,  I  want  to  find  some 
deep  water,  and  get  under  it,"  was  the  reckless  reply. 

"  A-a-h  !  Didn't  I  say  we  respectable  people  and  the 
devil  was  in  partnership  over  you  ?  He  wants  to  get 
you  under  deep  water  as  soon  as  possible,  and  we're  all 
a-helpin'  him  along.     Young  man  I  am  afraid  of  you. 


A    3IAX   WHO  HATED  HIMSELF.  183 

like  the  rest,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  I  think  more  of  my 
oid  duds  here  than  of  your  immortal  soul  that  the  devil 
has  almost  got.  But  I'm  goin'  to  spite  him  and  myself 
for  once.  I'm  goin'  down  town  after  the  evenin'  paper, 
and,  instead  of  lockin'  up,  as  I  usually  do,  I  shall  leave 
you  in  charge.  I  know  it's  risky,  and  I  hate  to  do  it,  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  you  ought  ter  have  sense  enough  to 
know  that  if  you  take  all  I've  got  you  would  be  jest  that 
much  wuss  off ;  "  and  before  Haldane  could  remonstrate 
or  reply  he  took  a  curiously  twisted  and  gnarled  cane 
that  resembled  himself  and  departed. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

MR.    GROWTHER    BECOMES   GIGANTIC. 

Haldane  Avas  SO  surprised  at  Mr.  Growther's  unex- 
pected course  that  the  odd  old  man  was  out  of  the  gate 
before  the  situation  was  fully  realized.  His  first  impulse 
was  to  follow,  and  say  that  he  would  not  be  left  alone  in 
circumstances  that  might  compromise  him  ;  but  a  second 
thought  assured  him  that  he  was  past  being  compromised. 
So  he  concluded  to  fall  in  with  his  host's  queer  humor, 
and  try  to  prove  himself  worthy  of  trust.  He  cleared 
away  his  dinner  with  as  much  deftness  as  could  be  ex- 
pected of  one  engaging  in  an  unusual  task,  and  put  every 
thing  in  its  place,  or  what  should  be  its  place.  He  next 
found  a  broom,  and  commenced  sweeping  the  room, 
which  unwonted  proceeding  aroused  the  slumbering  cat 
and  dog,  and  they  sat  up  and  stared  at  the  stranger  with 
unfeigned  astonishment. 

The  cat  looked  on  quietly  and  philosophically,  acting 
on  the  generally  received  principle  of  the  world,  of  not 
worrying  until  her  own  interests  seemed  threatened.  But 
the  dog  evidently  thought  of  the  welfare  of  his  absent 
master,  and  had  a  vague  troubled  sense  that  something 
was  wrong.  He  waddled  up  to  the  intruder,  and  gravely 
smelt  of  him.  By  some  canine  casuistry  he  arrived  at 
the  same  conclusion  which  society  had  reached — that 
Haldane  was  a  suspicious  character,  and  should  be  kept 
at  arm's  length.  Indeed,  the  sagacious  beast  seemed  to 
feel  toward  the  unfortunate  youth  precisely  the  same  im- 
pulse which  had  actuated  all  the  prudent  citizens  in  town 
— a  desire  to  be  rid  of  him,  and  to  have  nothing  to  do 

184 


MR.    GROWTHER  BECOMES   GIGANTIC.        185 

with  him.  If  Haldane  would  only  take  himself  off  to 
parts  unknown,  to  die  in  a  gutter,  or  to  commit  a  bur- 
glary, that  he  might,  as  it  were,  break  into  jail  again,  and 
so  find  a  refuge  and  an  abiding-place,  the  faithful  dog» 
believing  his  master's  interests  no  longer  endangered, 
would  have  resumed  his  nap  with  the  same  complacency 
and  sense  of  rehef  which  scores  of  good  people  had  felt 
as  they  saw  Mr.  Arnot's  dishonored  clerk  disappearing 
from  their  premises,  after  their  curt  refusal  of  his  serv- 
ices. The  community's  thoughts  and  wary  eyes  followed 
him  only  sufficiently  long  to  be  sure  that  he  committed 
no  further  depredadons,  and  then  he  was  forgotten,  or 
remembered  only  as  a  danger,  or  an  annoyance,  happily 
escaped.  What  w^as  to  become  of  this  drifting  human 
atom  appeared  to  cause  no  more  soHcitude  in  town  than 
Mr.  Growther's  dog  would  feel  should  he  succeed  in 
growling  the  intruder  out  of  the  house  ;  for,  being  some- 
what mystified,  and  not  exactly  sure  as  to  his  master's 
disposition  toward  the  stranger,  he  concluded  to  limit  his 
protest  to  a  union  of  his  voice  with  what  might  be  termed 
society's  surly  and  monotonous  command,  "Move  on." 

Haldane  tried  to  propitiate  this  mild  and  miniature 
Cerberus  with  a  dainty  piece  of  ham,  but  was  rewarded 
only  by  a  disdainful  sniff  and  angrier  snarl.  The  politic 
cat,  however,  with  wary  glances  at  the  dog  and  the 
stranger,  stole  noiselessly  to  the  meat,  seized  it,  and  re- 
treated quickly  to  her  recognized  corner  of  the  liearth  ; 
but  when  the  youth,  hoping  that  the  morsel  might  lead 
to  a  friendly  acquaintance,  offered  a  caress,  her  back  and 
tail  went  up  instantly,  and  she  became  the  embodiment 
of  repellant  conservatism.  He  looked  at  her  a  moment^ 
and  then  said,  with  a  bitter  laugh, 

"  If  you  could  be  transformed  into  a  woman,  as  the 
old  fairy  tale  goes,  you  would  make  an  excellent  wife  for 
Weitzel  Shrumpf,  while  the  snarling  dog  represents  the 
respectable   portion   of  the   community,  that    will   have 


186   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

nothing  to  do  with  me  whatever.  When  my  pen,  how- 
ever, has  brought  name  and  fame,  the  churhsh  world 
will  be  ready  to  fawn,  and  forget  that  it  tried  to  trample 
me  into  the  mire  of  the  street  until  I  became  a  part  of  it. 
Curses  on  the  world  !  I  would  give  half  my  life  for  the 
genius  of  a  Byron,  that  I  might  heap  scorn  on  society 
until  it  writhed  under  the  intolerable  burden.  Oh  that  I 
had  a  wit  as  keen  and  quick  as  the  lightning,  so  that  I 
might  transfix  and  shrivel  up  the  well-dressed  monsters 
that  now  shun  me  as  if  I  had  a  contagion  !  " 

P>om  a  heart  overflowing  with  bitterness  and  impotent 
protest  against  the  condition  to  which  his  own  act  had 
reduced  him,  Haldane  was  learning  to  indulge  in  such 
bitter  sohloquy  with  increasing  frequency.  It  is  ever  the 
tendency  of  those  who  find  themselves  at  odds  with  the 
world,  and  in  conflict  with  the  established  order  of  things, 
to  inveigh  with  communistic  extravagance  against  the 
■conservatism  and  wary  prudence  which  they  themselves 
would  have  maintained  had  all  remained  well  with  them. 
The  Haldane  who  had  meditated  "  gloomy  grandeur  " 
would  not  have  looked  at  the  poor,  besmirched  Haldane 
who  had  just  accepted  what  the  world  would  regard  as 
charity.  The  only  reason  why  the  proud,  aristocratic 
youth  could  tolerate  and  make  excuse  for  the  disreputable 
character  who  was  glad  to  eat  the  dinner  given  by  Jere- 
miah Growther,  was  that  this  same  ill-conditioned  fellow 
was  himself.  Thus  every  bitter  thing  which  he  said 
against  society  was  virtually  self-condemnation.  And 
yet  his  course  was  most  natural,  for  men  almost  invariably 
forget  that  their  views  change  with  their  fortunes.  Thou- 
sands will  at  once  form  a  positive  opinion  of  a  subject 
from  its  aspect  seen  at  their  stand-point,  where  one  will 
walk  around  and  scan  it  on  all  sides. 

Either  to  spite  himself,  or  to  show  his  confidence  in 
one  whom  others  regarded  as  utterly  unworthy  of  trust, 
Mr.  Growther  remained  away  sufficiently  long  for  Hal- 


3IB.    GROWTHER   BECOMES  GIGANTIC.       187 

dane  to  have  made  up  a  bundle  of  all  the  valuables  in 
the  house,  and  have  escaped.  The  young  man  soon  dis- 
covered that  there  were  valuables,  but  any  thing  like 
vulgar  there  never  entered  his  mind.  That  people  should 
believe  him  capable  of  acting  the  part  of  a  common  thief 
was  one  of  the  strange  things  in  his  present  experience 
whicii  he  could  not  understand. 

Finally,  to  the  immense  relief  of  the  honest  and  con- 
servative dog,  that  had  growled  himself  hoarse,  Haldane 
gave  the  room  its  finishing  touches,  and  betook  himself 
to  the  wood-pile  again.  The  cat  watched  his  departure 
with  philosophic  composure.  Like  many  fair  ladies,  she 
had  thought  chiefly  of  herself  during  the  interview  with 
the  stranger,  from  whom  she  had  managed  to  secure  a 
Uttle  agreeable  attention  without  giving  any  thing  in  re- 
turn ;  and,  now  that  it  was  over,  she  complacently  purred 
herself  to  sleep,  with  nothing  to  regret. 

"  Hullo  !  you're  here  yet,  eh  !  "  said  Mr.  Growther,  en- 
tering the  gate. 

"  Can  you  name  any  good  reason  why  I  should  not  be 
here?"  asked  Haldane,  somewhat  nettled. 

"  No,  but  I  could  plenty  of  bad  reasons." 

"  Keep  them  to  yourself  then,"  said  the  young  man, 
sullenly  resuming  his  work. 

"  You  talk  as  if  you  was  an  honest  man,"  growled  the 
old  gentleman,  hobbling  into  the  house. 

Sitting  down  in  his  stout  oak  chair  to  rest  himself,  he 
stared  in  silence  for  a  time  at  the  changes  that  Haldane 
had  wrought.     At  last  he  commenced, 

"Now,  Jeremiah  Growther,  I  hope  you  can  see  that 
you  are  a  perfect  pig  !  I  hope  you  can  see  that  dirt  and 
confusion  are  your  nateral  elements  ;  and  you  had  to  live 
like  a  pig  till  a  boy  just  out  of  jail  came  to  show  you 
what  it  was  to  live  like  a  decent  human.  But  you've 
been  showed  before,  and  you'll  get  things  mixed  up  to- 
morrow.    A-a-h  ! 


188  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"Where's  that  young  fellow  goin'  to  sleep  to-night? 
That's  none  o'  your  business.  Yes,  'tis  my  business,  too. 
I'm  always  mighty  careful  to  know  where  I'm  goin'  to 
sleep,  and  if  I  don't  sleep  well  my  cat  and  dog  hear  from 
me  the  next  day.  You  could  be  mighty  comfortable  to- 
night in  your  good  bed  with  this  young  chap  sittin'  on  a 
curb-stun  in  the  rain  ;  but  I  be  hanged  if  you  shall  be. 
It's  beginnin'  to  rain  now — it's  goin'  to  be  a  mean  night 
— mean  as  yourself — a  cold,  oncomfortable  drizzle  ;  just 
such  a  night  as  makes  these  poor  homeless  devils  feel 
that  since  they  are  half  under  water  they  might  as  well 
go  down  to  the  river  and  get  under  altogether.  P'raps 
they  do  it  sometimes  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  warm,  dry 
place  somewhere.  Dreadful  suddint  change  for  'em, 
though  !  And  it's  we  respectable,  comfortable  people 
that's  to  blame  for  these  suddint  changes  half  the  time. 

"  You  know  that  heady  young  chap  out  there  will  go 
to  the  bad  if  somebody  don't  pull  him  up.  You  know 
that  it  would  be  mean  as  dirt  to  let  him  go  wanderin'  off 
to-night  with  only  fifty  cents  in  his  pocket,  tryin'  to  find 
some  place  to  put  his  head  in  out  of  the  storm  ;  and  yet 
you  want  to  git  out  of  doin'  any  thing  more  for  him. 
You're  thinkin'  how  much  more  comfortable  it  will  be  to 
sit  dozin'  in  your  chair,  and  not  have  any  stranger  both- 
erin'  round.  But  I'll  head  you  off  agin  in  spite  of  your 
cussed,  mean,  stingy,  selfish,  old,  shriveled-up  soul,  that 
would  like  to  take  its  ease  even  though  the  hull  world 
was  a-groanin'  outside  the  door.     A-a-h  !  " 

Having  made  it  clear  to  the  perverse  Jeremiah  Grow- 
ther — against  whom  he  seemed  to  hold  such  an  inveterate 
spite — what  he  must  do,  he  arose  and  called  to  Haldane, 

"  What  are  you  doin'  out  there  in  the  rain  ?  " 

"  I'll  be  through  in  a  few  minutes." 

"  I  don't  want  the  rest  done  till  mornin'." 

"  It  will  pay  neither  of  us  for  me  to  come  back  here  to 
do  what's  left." 


ME.    QROWTHER  BECOMES  GIGANTIC.       189 

"  It  may  pay  you,  and  as  to  it's  payin'  me,  that's  my 
business." 

"  Not  altogether — I  wish  to  do  my  work  on  business 
principles  ;  I  haven't  got  down  to  charity  yet." 

"  Well,  have  your  own  way,  then  ;  I  s'pose  other  folks 
have  a  right  to  have  it  as  well  as  myself,  sometimes. 
Come  in  soon  as  you  are  through." 

By  the  time  Haldane  finished  his  task  the  clouds  had 
settled  heavily  all  around  the  horizon,  hastening  forward 
an  early  and  gloomy  twilight,  and  the  rain  was  beginning 
to  fall  steadily.  His  mood  comported  with  the  aspect  of 
sky  and  earth,  and  weariness,  the  fast  ally  of  despond- 
ency, aided  in  giving  a  leaden  hue  to  the  future  and  a 
leaden  weight  to  his  thoughts.  The  prospect  of  trudging 
a  mile  or  more  through  the  drenching  rain  to  his  previous 
squalid  resting-place  at  No.  13,  whose  only  attraction 
consisted  in  the  fact  that  no  questions  were  asked,  was 
so  depressing  that  he  decided  to  ask  Mr.  Growther  for 
permission  to  sleep  in  the  corner  of  his  wood-shed. 

"Come  in,"  shouted  Mr.  Growther,  in  response  to  his 
knock  at  the  door. 

"  I'm  through,"  said  Haldane  laconically. 

"  Well,  I  ain't,"  replied  Mr.  Growther;  "  you  wouldn't 
mind  taking  that  cheer  till  I  am,  would  you  ?  " 

Haldane  found  the  cushioned  arm-chair  and  the  genial 
fire  exceedingly  to  his  taste,  and  he  felt  that  in  such  com- 
fortable quarters  he  could  endure  hearing  the  old  man 
berate  himself  or  any  one  else  for  an  hour  or  more. 

"Where  are  you  goin'  to  sleep  to-night?"  asked  his 
quaint-visaged  host. 

"That  is  a  problem  I  had  been  considering  myself," 
answered  Haldane,  dubiously.  "I  had  about  concluded 
that,  rather  than  walk  back  through  the  rain  to  the 
wretched  place  at  which  I  slept  last  night,  I  would  ask 
for  the  privilege  of  sleeping  in  your  wood-shed.  It 
wouldn't  be   much  worse   than  the  other  place,  or  any 


190   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

place  in  which  I  could  find  lodging  if  I  were  known. 
Since  I  did  not  steal  your  silver  1  suppose  you  can  trust 
me  with  your  wood." 

"  Yet  they  say  your  folks  is  rich." 

"  Yes,  I  can  go  to  as  elegant  a  house  as  there  is  in  this 
city." 

"  Why  in  thunder  don't  you  go  there,  then? " 

"  Because  I  would  rather  be  in  your  wood-shed  and 
other  places  like  it  for  the  present." 

"  I  can't  understand  that." 

"  Perhaps  not,  but  there  are  worse  things  than  sleep- 
ing hard  and  cold.  There  are  people  who  suffer  more 
•through  their  minds  than  their  bodies,  I  am  not  going 
back  among  my  former  acquaintances  till  I  can  go  as  a 
gentleman." 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  approvingly  a  moment, 
and  then  said  sententiously, 

"  Well,  you  may  be  a  bad  cuss,  but  you  ain't  a  mean 
one." 

Haldane  laughed  outright.  "  Mr.  Growther,"  said  he, 
"  you  do  me  honor.  I  foresee  you  will  trust  me  with  your 
wood -pile  to-night." 

"  No,  I  won't  nuther.  You  might  not  take  my  wood, 
but  you  would  take  cold,  and  then  I'd  have  to  nuss  you 
and  pay  doctor's  bills,  and  bother  with  you  a  week  or 
more.  I  might  even  have  your  funeral  on  my  hands. 
You  needn't  think  you're  goin'  to  get  me  into  all  this 
trouble,  fur  I'm  one  that  hates  trouble,  unless  it's  fur  my- 
self;  and,  if  I  do  say  it,  it's  askin'  a  Httle  too  much  of 
me,  almost  a  stranger,  to  'tend  to  your  funeral.  I  don't 
like  funerals — never  did — and  I  won't  have  nothin'  to  do 
with  yours.  There's  a  room  right  up  stairs  here,  over  the 
kitchen,  where  you  can  sleep  without  wakin'  up  the  hull 
neighborhood  a  coughin'  before  mornin'.  Now  don't 
■say  nothin'  more  about  it.  I'm  thinkin'  of  myself  plaguy 
sight  more'n  I  am  of  you.     If  I  could  let  you  go  to  the 


3fB.       ROWTHER  BECOMES  GIGANTIC.       191 

dogs  without  worryin'  about  it,  I'd  do  it  quick  enough; 
but  I've  got  a  miserable,  sneakin'  old  conscience  that 
won't  stand  right  up  and  make  me  do  right,  like  a  man  ; 
but  when  I  want  to  do  somethin'  mean  it  begins  a  gnawin' 
and  a  gnawin'  at  me  till  I  have  to  do  what  I  oughter  for 
the  sake  of  a  little  peace  and  comfort.     A-a-h  !  " 

"  Your  uncomfortable  conscience  seems  bent  on  mak- 
ing me  very  comfortable  ;  and  yet  I  pledge  you  my  word 
that  I  will  stay  only  on  one  condition,  and  that  is,  that 
you  let  me  get  supper  and  breakfast  for  you,  and  also 
read  the  paper  aloud  this  evening.  I  can  see  that  you 
are  tired  and  lame  from  your  walk.     Will  you  agree  ?  " 

"  Can't  very  well  help  myself.  These  easterly  storms 
allers  brings  the  rheumatiz  into  my  legs.  About  all  they 
are  good  fur  now  is  to  have  the  rheumatiz  in  'em.  So  set 
plates  for  two,  and  fire  ahead." 

Haldane  entered  into  his  tasks  with  almost  boyish 
zest.  "  I've  camped  out  in  the  woods,  and  am  consider- 
able of  a  cook,"  said  he.  "  You  shall  have  some  toast 
browned  to  a  turn,  to  soak  in  your  tea,  and  then  you 
shall  have  some  more  with  hot  cream  poured  over  it. 
I'll  shave  the  smoked  beef  so  thin  that  you  can  see  to 
read  through  it." 

"  Umph  •  I  can't  see  after  dark  any  more  than  an  old 
hen." 

"  How  did  you  expect  to  read  the  paper  then  ?  "  asked 
Haldane,  without  pausing  in  his  labors. 

"  I  only  read  the  headin's.  I  might  as  well  make  up 
the  rest  as  the  editors,  fur  then  I  can  make  it  up  to  suit 
me.     It's  all  made  up  half  the  time,  you  know." 

"  Well,  you  shall  hear  the  editors'  yarns  to-night  then, 
by  way  of  variety." 

The  old  man  watched  the  eager  young  fellow  as  he 
bustled  from  the  cupboard  to  the  table,  and  from  the 
store-closet  to  the  fireplace,  with  a  kindly  twinkle  in  his 
small    eyes,    from   which    the  deep  wrinkles   ran  in   all 


192   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

directions  and  in  strange  complexity.  There  could 
scarcely  be  a  greater  contrast  than  that  between  the 
headstrong  and  stalwart  youth  and  the  withered  and 
eccentric  hermit  ;  but  it  would  seem  that  mutual  kindness 
is  a  common  ground  on  which  all  the  world  can  meet  and 
add  somewhat  to  each  other's  welfare. 

The  sound  hard  wood  which  Haldane  had  just  sawn 
into  billets  blazed  cheerily  on  the  hearth,  filling  the  quaint 
old  kitchen  with  weird  and  flickering  lights  and  shades. 
Mr.  Growther  was  projected  against  the  opposite  wall  in 
the  aspect  of  a  benevolent  giant,  and  perhaps  the  large, 
kindly,  but  unsubstantial  shadow  was  a  truer  type  of  the 
man  than  the  shriveled  anatomy  with  which  the  town 
was  familiar.  The  conservative  dog,  no  longer  dis- 
quieted by  doubts  and  fears,  sat  up  and  blinked  approv- 
ingly at  the  preparation  for  supper.  The  politic  cat,  now 
satisfied  that  any  attentions  to  the  stranger  would  not 
compromise  her,  and  might  lead  to  another  delicate  mor- 
sel, fawned  against  his  legs,  and  purred  as  affectionately 
as  if  she  had  known  him  all  her  life  and  would  not  scratch 
him  instantly  if  he  did  any  thing  displeasing  to  her. 

Take  it  altogether,  it  was  a  domestic  scene  which  would 
have  done  Mrs.  Arnot's  heart  good  to  have  witnessed  ; 
but  poor  Mrs.  Haldane  would  have  sighed  over  it  as  so 
utterly  unconventional  as  to  be  another  proof  of  her  son's 
unnatural  tastes.  In  her  estimation  he  should  spend 
social  evenings  only  in  aristocratic  parlors ;  and  she 
mourned  over  the  fact  that  from  henceforth  he  was  ex- 
cluded from  these  privileged  places  of  his  birthright, 
with  a  grief  only  less  poignant  than  her  sorrow  over  what 
seemed  to  her  a  cognate  truth,  that  his  course  and  char- 
acter also  excluded  him  from  heaven. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

HOW   PUBLIC    OPINION    IS   OFTE^J   MADE. 

"I  don't  s'pose  there's  any  use  of  two  such  repro- 
bates as  us  thinkin'  about  sayin'  grace,"  said  Mr. 
Grovvther,  taking  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  table  ; 
"  and  yet,  as  I  said,  I  allers  have  a  sneakin'  wish  jest  to 
go  through  the  form  ;  so  we'll  all  begin  in  the  same  way 
— cat  and  dog  and  God's  rational  critters.  Howsomever, 
they  don't  know  no  better,  and  so  their  consciences  is 
clear.  I'll  own  up  this  toast  is  good,  if  I  am  eatin'  it  like 
a  heathen.  If  you  can't  find  any  thing  else  to  do,  you 
can  take  to  cookin'  for  a  livin'." 

"  No  one  in  town,  save  yourself,  would  trust  me  in 
their  kitchen." 

"  Well,  it  does  seem  as  if  a  man  had  better  lose  every 
thing  rather  than  his  character,"  said  Mr.  Growther 
thoughtfully. 

"Then  it  seems  a  pity  a  man  can  lose  it  so  cursed 
easily,"  added  Haldane  bitterly,  "for,  having  lost  it,  all 
the  respectable  and  well-to-do  would  rather  one  should 
go  to  the  devil  a  thousand  times  than  give  him  a  chance 
to  win  it  back  again." 

"  You  put  it  rather  strong— rather  strong,"  said  the  old 
man,  shaking  his  head ;  "  for  some  reason  or  other  I  am 
not  as  mad  at  myself  and  every  thing  and  everybody  to- 
night as  usual,  and  I  can  see  things  clearer.  Be  honest 
now.  A  month  ago  you  belonged  to  the  rich,  high- 
flyin*  class.  How  much  then  would  you  have  had  to  do 
with  a  young  fellow  of  whom  you  knew  only  four  things 
— that  he  gambled,  got  drunk,  'bezzled  a  thousand  dol- 
193 


194   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

lars,  and  had  been  in  jail?  That's  all  most  people  in 
town  know  about  you." 

Haldane  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork  and  fairly 
groaned. 

"I  know  the  plain  truth  is  tough  to  hear  and  think 
about,  and  I'm  an  old  brute  to  spile  your  supper  by 
bringing  it  up.  I  hope  you  won't  think  I'm  tryin'  to  save 
some  victuals  by  doin'  it.  And  yet  it's  the  truth,  and 
you've  got  to  face  it.  But  face  it  to-morrow — face  it  to- 
morrow ;  have  a  comfortable  time  to-night." 

"  Your  statement  of  the  case  is  perfectly  bald,"  said 
Haldane,  with  a  troubled  brow  ;  "  there  are  explanatory 
and  excusing  circumstances." 

"Yes,  no  doubt;  but  the  world  don't  take  much  ac- 
count of  them.  When  one  gits  into  a  scrape,  about  the 
only  question  asked  is,  What  did  he  dof  And  they  all 
jump  to  the  conclusion  that  if  he  did  it  once  he'll  do  it 
agin.  Lookin'  into  the  circumstances  takes  time  and 
trouble,  and  it  isn't  human  nature  to  bother  much  about 
other  people." 

"  What  chance  is  there,  then,  for  such  as  I  am  ?  " 

The  old  man  hitched  uneasily  on  his  chair,  but  at  last, 
with  his  characteristic  bluntness,  said,  "  Hanged  if  I 
know  !  They  say  that  them  that  gits  down  doesn't  very 
often  git  up  again.     Yet  I  know  they  do  sometimes." 

"  What  would  you  do  if  you  were  me?  " 

"  Hanged  if  I  know  that  either  !  Sit  down  and  cuss 
myself  to  all  eternity,  like  enough.  I  feel  like  doin'  it 
sometimes  as  it  is.     A-a-h  !  " 

"  I  think  I  know  a  way  out  of  the  slough,"  said  Hal- 
dane more  composedly — his  thoughts  recurring  to  his 
literary  hopes — "  and  if  I  do,  you  will  not  be  sorry." 

"Of  course  I  won't  be  sorry.  A  man  allers  hates  one 
who  holds  a  mortgage  against  him  which  is  sure  to  be 
foreclosed.  That's  the  way  the  devil's  got  me,  and  I 
hate  him   about  as  bad  as  I  do  myself,  and  spite  him 


HO  W  PUBLIC  OPINION  IS  OFTEN  MA  DE.      195 

every  chance  I  git.  Of  course,  I'll  be  glad  to  see  you  git 
out  of  his  clutches  ;  but  he's  got  his  claws  in  you  deep, 
and  he  holds  on  to  a  feller  as  if  he'd  pull  him  in  two  be- 
fore he'll  let  go," 

"  Mr.  Growther,  I  don't  want  to  get  into  a  quarrel  with 
you,  for  I  have  found  that  you  are  very  touchy  on  a  cer- 
tain point ;  but  I  cannot  help  hinting  that  you  are 
destined  to  meet  a  great  disappointment  when  through 
with  your  earthly  worry.  I  wish  my  chances  were  as 
good  as  yours." 

"Now  you  are  beginnin'  to  talk  foohshly.  I  shall 
never  be  rid  of  myself,  and  so  will  never  be  rid  of  my 
worry." 

"Well,  well,  we  won't  discuss  the  question;  it's  too 
deep  for  us  both  ;  but  in  my  judgment  it  will  be  a  great 
piece  of  injustice  if  you  ever  find  a  warmer  place  than 
your  own  hearthstone." 

"  That's  mighty  hot,  sometimes,  boy  ;  and,  besides, 
your  judgment  hasn't  led  you  very  straight  so  far,"  said 
the  old  man  testily.  "  But  don't  talk  of  such  things.  I 
don't  want  to  come  to  'em  till  I  have  to." 

"  Suppose  I  should  become  rich  and  famous,  Mr. 
Growther,"  said  Haldane,  changing  the  subject  ;  "  would 
you  let  me  take  a  meal  with  you  then  ?  " 

"  That  depends.     If  you  put  on  any  airs  I  wouldn't." 

"  Good  for  you  !  " 

"  O,  I'd  want  to  make  much  of  you,  and  tell  how  I 
helped  you  when  you  was  down,  and  so  git  all  the  reflected 
glory  I  could  out  of  you.  I've  learned  how  my  sneakin' 
old  speret  pints  every  time  ;  but  I'll  head  it  off,  and  drive 
it  back  as  I  would  a  fox  into  its  hole." 

In  spite  of  some  rather  harrowing  and  gloomy  thoughts 
on  the  part  of  two  of  them,  the  four  inmates  of  the  cottage 
made  a  very  comfortable  supper  ;  for  Mr.  Growther  al- 
ways insisted  that  since  his  cat  and  dog  could  "stand 
him,"  they  should  fare  as  well  as  he  did. 


19G   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Having  cleared  the  table,  Haldane  lighted  a  candle — 
kerosene  lamps  were  an  abomination  that  Mr.  Growther 
would  not  abide — and  began  reading  aloud  the  Plvening 
Spy.  The  old  gentleman  half  listened  and  half  dozed, 
pricking  up  his  ears  at  some  tale  of  trouble  or  crime,  and 
almost  snoring  through  politics  and  finance.  At  last  he 
was  half  startled  out  of  his  chair  by  a  loud,  wrathful  oath 
from  Haldane. 

"  Look  here,  young  man,"  he  said  ;  "  the  devil  isn't  so 
far  off  from  either  of  us  that  you  need  shout  for  him." 

"  True,  indeed  !  he  isn't  far  off,  and  he  has  every 
thing  his  own  way  in  this  world.  Listen  to  this — "  and 
he  read  with  sharp,  bitter  emphasis  the  following  edito- 
rial paragraph,  headed  "Unnatural  Depravity  :  " 

"  Being  ever  inclined  to  view  charitably  the  faults  and 
failings  of  others,  and  to  make  allowance  for  the  natural 
giddiness  of  youth,  we  gave  a  rather  lenient  estimate,  not 
of  the  crime  committed  by  Mr.  Arnot's  clerk,  Egbert 
Haldane,  but  of  the  young  man  himself.  It  would  seem 
that  our  disposition  to  be  kindly  led  us  into  error,  for  we 
learn  from  our  most  respectable  German  contemporary, 
published  in  this  city,  that  this  same  unscrupulous  young 
fraud  has  been  guilty  of  the  meanness  of  taking  advan- 
tage of  a  poor  foreigner's  ignorance  of  our  language. 
Having  found  it  impossible  to  obtain  lodgings  among 
those  posted  in  the  current  news  of  the  day,  and  thus  to 
impose  on  any  one  to  whom  he  was  known,  he  succeeded 
in  obtaining  board  of  a  respectable  German,  and  ran  up 
as  large  a  bill  as  possible  at  the  bar,  of  course.  When 
the  landlord  of  the  hotel  and  restaurant  at  last  asked  for 
a  settlement,  this  young  scapegrace  had  the  insolence  to 
insist  that  he  had  paid  every  cent  of  his  bill,  though  he 
had  not  a  scrap  of  paper  or  proof  to  support  his  asser- 
tion. Finding  that  this  game  of  bluster  would  not  suc- 
ceed, and  that  his  justly  incensed  host  was  about  to  ask 
for  kis  arrest,  he  speedily  came  down  from  his  high  and 


HOW  PUBLIC  OPINION  IS  OFTEN  MADE.      197 

virtuous  mood,  and  compromised  by  pretending  to  offer 
all  the  money  he  had. 

"This  was  undoubtedly  a  mere  pretense,  for  he  had 
worn  a  valuable  watch  in  the  morning,  and  had  parted 
with  it  during  the  day.  Though  the  sum  he  apparently 
had  upon  his  person  was  scarcely  half  payment,  the 
kind-hearted  German  took  him  at  his  word,  and  also  left 
him  seventy-five  cents  to  procure  lodgings  elsewhere.  In 
what  role  of  crime  he  will  next  appear  it  is  hard  to  guess  ; 
but  it  seems  a  pity  that  Mr.  Arnot  did  not  give  him  the 
full  benefit  of  the  law,  for  thus  the  community  would 
have  been  rid,  for  a  time  at  least,  of  one  who  can  serve 
his  day  and  generation  better  at  breaking  stone  under  the 
direction  of  the  State  than  by  any  methods  of  his  own 
choosing.  He  is  one  of  those  phenomenal  cases  of  un- 
natural depravity  ;  for,  as  far  as  we  can  learn,  he  comes 
from  a  home  of  wealth,  refinement,  and  even  Christian 
culture.     We  warn  our  fellow-citizens  against  him." 

"  A-a-a-h  !"  ejaculated  Mr.  Growther,  in  prolonged 
and  painful  utterance,  as  if  one  of  his  teeth  had  just  been 
drawn.  "  Now  that  is  tough  !  I  don't  wonder  you  think 
Satan  had  a  finger  in  that  pie.  Didn't  I  tell  you  the  ed- 
itors made  up  half  that's  in  the  papers?  I  don't  know 
what  started  this  story.  There's  generally  a  little  begin- 
ning, like  the  seed  of  a  big  flauntin'  weed  ;  but  I  don't 
believe  you  did  so  mean  a  thing.  In  fact,  I  don't  think 
I'm  quite  mean  enough  to  have  done  it  myself." 

"  You,  and  perhaps  one  other  person,  will  be  the  only 
ones  in  town,  then,  who  will  not  believe  it  against  me.  I 
know  I've  acted  wrong  and  like  a  fool ;  but  what  chance 
has  a  fellow  when  he  gets  credit  for  evil  only,  and  a  hun- 
dred-fold more  evil  than  is  in  him?  Curse  it  all!  since 
every  one  insists  that  I  have  gone  wholly  over  to  the 
devil,  I  might  as  well  go." 

"That's  it,  that's  it!  we're  all  right  at  his  elbow, 
a-helpin'  him  along.     But  how  did  this  story  start  ?    The 


198   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

scribbler  in  the  German  paper  couldn't  have  spun  it, 
like  a  spider,  hully  out  of  his  own  in'ards." 

Haldane  told  him  the  whole  story,  sketching  the 
"  kind-hearted  German  "  in  his  true  colors. 

At  its  conclusion  Mr.  Growther  drew  a  long,  medita- 
tive breath,  and  remarked  sententiously,  "  Well,  I've 
allers  heard  that  'sperience  was  an  awfully  dear  school  ; 
but  we  do  learn  in  it.  I'll  bet  my  head  you  will  never 
pay  another  dollar  without  takin'  a  receipt." 

"  What  chance  will  I  ever  have  to  make  another  dol- 
lar ?  They  have  raised  a  mad-dog  cry  against  me,  and 
I  shall  be  treated  as  if  I  were  a  dog." 

"  Why  don't  you  go  home,  then  ?  " 

"I'll  go  to  the  bottom  of  the  river  first." 

"  That  would  suit  the  devil,  the  crabs,  and  the  eels," 
remarked  Mr.  Growther. 

"  Faugh!  crabs  and  eels!  "  exclaimed  Haldane  with 
a  shudder  of  disgust. 

"That's  all  you'd  find  at  the  bottom  of  the  river,  ex- 
cept mud,"  responded  Mr.  Growther,  effectually  quench- 
ing all  tragic  and  suicidal  ideas  by  his  prosaic  statement 
of  the  facts.  "Young  man,"  he  continued  tottering  to 
his  feet,  "  I  s'pose  you  realize  that  you  are  in  a  pretty 
bad  fix.  I  ain't  much  of  a  mother  at  comfortin'.  When 
I  feel  most  sorry  for  any  one  I'm  most  crabbed.  It's 
one  of  my  mean  ways.  If  there's  many  screws  loose  in 
you,  you  will  go  under.  If  you  are  rash,  or  cowardly, 
or  weak — that  is,  ready  to  give  up-like — you  will  make  a 
final  mess  of  your  life  ;  but  if  you  fight  your  way  up 
you'll  be  a  good  deal  of  a  man.  Seems  to  me  if  I  was 
as  young  and  strong  as  you  be,  I'd  pitch  in.  I'd  spite 
myself;  I'd  spite  the  devil ;  I'd  beat  the  world  ;  I'd  just 
grit  my  teeth,  and  go  fur  myself  and  every  thing  else  that 
stood  in  my  way,  and  I'd  whip  'em  all  out,  or  I'd  die 
a-fightin'.  But  I've  got  so  old  and  rheumatic  that  all  I  can 
do  is  cuss.     A-a-h!  " 


HOW  PUBLIC  OPINION  IS  OFTEN  MADE.      19? 

"  I  will  take  your  advice — I  will  fight  it  out,"  ex- 
claimed the  excitable  youth  with  an  oath.  Between  in- 
dignation and  desperation  he  was  thoroughly  aroused. 
He  already  cherished  only  revenge  toward  the  world, 
and  he  was  catching  the  old  man's  vindictive  spirit  to- 
ward himself. 

Mr.  Growther  seemed  almost  as  deeply  incensed  as  his 
guest  at  the  gross  injustice  of  the  paragraph,  which, 
nevertheless,  would  be  widely  copied,  and  create  pubUc 
opinion,  and  so  double  the  difficulties  in  the  young  man's 
way  ;  and  he  kept  up  as  steady  a  grumble  and  growl  as 
had  his  sorely  disquieted  dog  in  the  afternoon.  But 
Haldane  lowered  at  the  fire  for  a  long  time  in  silence. 

"Well,"  concluded  the  quaint  old  cynic,  "matters 
can't  be  mended  by  swearin'  at  'em,  is  advice  I  often 
give  myself,  but  never  take.  I  s'pose  it's  bed-time.  To- 
morrow we  will  take  another  squint  at  your  ugly  for- 
tunes, and  see  which  side  pints  toward  dayhght.  Would 
you  mind  readin'  a  chapter  in  the  Bible  first?  " 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  the  Bible  ?  " 

"  Well,  the  Bible  has  a  good  deal  to  say  about  you 
and  most  other  people." 

"  Like  those  who  pretend  to  believe  it,  it  has  nothing 
good  to  say  about  me.  I've  had  about  all  the  hard 
names  I  can  stand  for  one  night." 

"  Read  where  it  hits  some  other  folks,  then." 

"  O,  I  will  read  anywhere  you  like.  It's  a  pity  if  J 
can't  do  that  much  for  perhaps  the  only  one  now  left  ii 
the  world  who  would  show  me  a  kindness." 

"That's  a  good  fellow.  There's  one  chapter  I'd  like 
to  hear  to-night.  The  words  come  out  so  strong  and 
hearty-like  that  they  generally  express  just  my  feelin's. 
Find  the  twenty-third  chapter  of  Matthew,  and  read 
where  it  says,  'Woe  unto  you,  scribes  and  Pharisees, 
hypocrites.'  " 

Haldane  read  the  chapter  with  much  zest,  crediting  all 


200  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

its  denunciation  to  others,  in  accordance  with  a  very  gen- 
eral fashion.  When  he  came  to  the  words,  "Ye  ser- 
pents, ye  generation  of  vipers,"  the  old  man  fairly  rubbed 
his  hands  together  in  his  satisfaction,  exclaiming  : 

"That's  it!  that's  genuine!  that's  telling  us  sleek, 
comfortable  sinners  the  truth  without  mincin'  !  No 
smooth,  deludin'  lies  in  that  chapter.  That's  the  way  to 
talk  to  people  who  don't  want  their  right  hand  to  know 
what  cussedness  their  left  hand  is  up  to.  Now,  Jeremiah 
Growther,  the  next  time  you  want  to  do  a  mean  thing 
that  you  wouldn't  have  all  the  town  know,  just  remem- 
ber what  a  wrigglin'  snake  in  the  grass  you  are." 

With  this  personal  exhortation  Mr.  Growther  brought 
the  evening  to  a  close,  and,  having  directed  Haldane  to 
his  comfortable  quarters,  hobbled  and  mumbled  off  to  an 
adjoining  room,  and  retired  for  the  night.  The  dying 
fire  revealed  for  a  time  the  slumbering  cat  and  dog,  but 
gradually  the  quaint  old  kitchen  faded  into  a  blank  of 
darkness. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A    PAPER    PONIARD. 

Throughout  an  early  breakfast  Mr.  Growther  ap- 
peared to  be  revolving  some  subject  in  his  mind,  and  his 
question,  at  last,  was  only  seemingly  abrupt,  for  it  came 
at  the  end  of  quite  a  long  mental  altercation,  in  which, 
of  course,  he  took  sides  against  himself. 

' '  I  say,  young  man,  do  you  think  you  could  stand  me  ? " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Haldane. 

"  Well,  before  you  say  no,  you  ought  to  realize  all  the 
bearin's  of  the  case.  The  town  is  down  on  you.  Re- 
spectable people  won't  have  nothin'  to  do  with  you,  any 
more  than  they  would  walk  arm  in  arm  with  the  char- 
coal-man in  their  Sunday  toggery.  I  aren't  respectable, 
so  you  can't  blacken  me.  I've  showed  you  I'm  not  afraid 
to  trust  you.  You  can't  sleep  in  the  streets,  you  can't  eat 
pavin'-stuns  and  mud,  and  you  won't  go  home.  Thic 
brings  me  to  the  question  again  :  Can  you  stand  me  ?  I 
warn  you  I'm  an  awful  oncomfortable  customer  to  live 
with;  I  won't  take  any  mean  advantage  of  you  in  this 
respect,  and,  what's  more,  I  don't  s'pose  I'll  behave  any 
better  for  your  sake  or  any  body  else's.  I'm  all  finished 
and  cooled  off,  like  an  old  iron  casting,  and  can't  be  bent 
or  made  over  in  any  other  shape.  You're  crooked  enough, 
the  Lord  knows  ;  but  you're  kind  o'  limber  yet  in  your 
moral  jints,  and  you  may  git  yourself  in  decent  shape  if 
you  have  a  chance.  I've  taken  a  notion  to  give  you  a 
chance.     The  only  question  is,  Can  you  stand  me?" 

"  It  would  be  strange  if  I  could  not  stand  the  only  man 
in  Hillaton  who  has  shown  a  human  and  friendly  interest 
in  me.     But  the  thing  I  can't  stand  is  taking  charity." 
201 


202  KNIQHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Who's  asked  you  to  take  charity  ?  " 
"What  else  would  it  be — my  living  here  on  you?" 
"I  can  open  a  boardin'-house  if  I  want  to,  can't  1? 
I  have  a  right  to  lend  my  own  money,  I  s'pose.     You 
can  open  a  ledger  account  with  me  to  a  penny.     What's 
more,  I'll  give  you  a  receipt  every  time,"  added  the  old 
man,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye;  "you  don't  catch  me 
gettin'  into  the  papers  as  '  kind-hearted'  Mr.  Growther." 
"  Mr.  Growther,  I  can  scarcely  understand  your  kind- 
ness to  me,  for  I  have  no  claim  on  you  whatever.     As 
much  as  I  v^ould  like  to  accept  your  offer,  I  scarcely  feel 
it  right  to  do  so.     I  will  bring  discredit  to  you  with  cer- 
tainty, and  my  chances  of  repaying  you  seem  very  doubt- 
ful now." 

"Now,  look  here,  young  man,  I've  got  to  take  my 
choice  'twixt  two  evils.  On  one  side  is  you.  I  don't 
want  you  botherin'  round,  seein'  my  mean  ways.  For 
the  sake  of  decency  I'll  have  to  try  to  hold  in  a  little  be- 
fore you,  while  before  my  cat  and  dog  I  can  let  out  as  I 
please  ;  so  I'd  rather  live  alone.  But  the  tother  side  is  a 
plaguy  sight  worse.  If  I  should  let  you  go  a-wanderin' 
off  you  don't  know  where,  the  same  as  if  I  should  start 
my  dog  off  with  a  kick,  knowin'  that  every  one  else  in 
town  would  add  a  kick  or  fire  a  stun,  I  couldn't  sleep 
nights  or  enjoy  my  vittels.  I'd  feel  so  mean  that  I  should 
jest  set  and  cuss  myself  from  mornin'  till  night.  Look 
here,  now  ;  I  couldn't  stan'  it,"  concluded  Mr.  Growther, 
■overcome  by  the  picture  of  his  own  wretchedness.  "  Let's 
have  no  more  words.  Come  back  every  night  till  you 
can  do  better.  Open  an  account  with  me.  Charge  what 
you  please  for  board  and  lodgin',  and  pay  all  back  with 
lawful  interest,  if  it'll  make  you  sleep  better."  And  so 
it  was  finally  arranged. 

Haldane  started  out  into  the  sun-lighted  streets  of  the 
city  as  a  man  might  sally  forth  in  an  enemy's  country, 
fearing  the  danger  that  lurked  on  every  side,  and  feeling 


A   PAPER   PONIARD.  203 

that  his  best  hope  was  that  he  might  be  unnoted  and  un- 
known. He  knew  that  the  glance  of  recognition  would 
also  be  a  glance  of  aversion  and  scorn,  and,  to  his  nature 
any  manifestation  of  contempt  was  worse  than  a  blow. 
He  now  clung  to  his  literary  ventures  as  the  one  rope  by 
which  he  could  draw  himself  out  of  the  depths  into  which 
he  had  fallen,  and  felt  sure  that  he  must  hear  from  some 
of  his  manuscripts  within  a  day  or  two.  He  went  to  the 
post-office  in  a  tremor  of  anxiety  only  to  hear  the  usual 
response,  "  Nothing  for  E.  H." 

With  heavy  steps  and  a  sinking  heart  he  then  set  out 
in  his  search  for  something  to  do,  and  after  walking  weary 
miles  he  found  only  a  small  bit  of  work,  for  which  he  re- 
ceived but  small  compensation.  He  returned  despond- 
ently in  the  evening  to  his  refuge  at  Mr.  Growther's  cot- 
tage, and  his  quaint  good  Samaritan  showed  his  sympa- 
thy by  maintaining  a  perpetual  growl  at  himself  and  the 
"  disjinted  world  "  in  general.  But  Haldane  lowered  at 
the  fire  and  said  little. 

Several  successive  days  brought  disappointment,  dis- 
couragement, and  even  worse.  The  slanderous  para- 
graph concerning  his  relations  with  Mr.  Shrumpf  was 
copied  by  the  Morning  Courier,  with  even  fuller  and  se- 
verer comment.  Occasionally  upon  the  street  and  in  his 
efforts  to  procure  employment,  he  was  recognized,  and 
aversion,  scorn,  or  rough  dismissal  followed  instantly. 

For  a  time  he  honestly  tried  to  obtain  the  means  of 
livelihood,  but  this  became  more  and  more  difficult. 
People  of  whom  he  asked  employment  naturally  inquired 
his  name,  and  he  was  fairly  learning  to  hate  it  from  wit- 
nessing the  malign  changes  in  aspect  and  manner  which 
its  utterance  invariably  produced.  The  public  had  been 
generally  warned  against  him,  and  to  the  natural  distrust 
inspired  by  his  first  crime  was  added  a  virtuous  indigna- 
tion at  the  supposed  low  trickery  in  his  dealing  with  the 
magnanimous  Mr.  Shrumpf,  "  the  poor  but  kind-hearted 


204  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

German."  Occasionally,  that  he  might  secure  a  day's 
work  in  full  or  in  part,  he  was  led  to  suppress  his  name 
and  give  an  alias. 

He  felt  as  if  he  had  been  caught  in  a  swift  black  tor- 
rent that  was  sweeping  him  down  in  spite  of  all  that  he 
could  do  ;  he  also  felt  that  the  black  tide  would  eventu- 
ally plunge  him  into  an  abyss  into  which  he  dared  not 
look.  He  struggled  hard  to  regain  a  footing,  and  clutched 
almost  desperately  at  every  thing  that  might  impede  or 
stay  his  swift  descent ;  but  seemingly  in  vain. 

His  mental  distress  was  such  that  he  was  unable  to 
write,  even  with  the  aid  of  stimulants  ;  and  he  also  felt 
that  it  was  useless  to  attempt  any  thing  further  until  he 
heard  from  the  manuscripts  already  in  editorial  hands. 
But  the  ominous  silence  in  regard  to  them  remained  un- 
broken. As  a  result,  he  began  to  give  way  to  moods  of 
the  deepest  gloom  and  despondency,  which  alternated 
with  wild  and  reckless  impulses. 

He  was  growing  intensely  bitter  toward  himself  and 
all  mankind.  Even  the  image  of  his  kind  friend,  Mrs. 
Arnot,  began  to  merge  itself  into  merely  that  of  the  wife 
of  the  man  who  had  dealt  him  a  blow  from  which  he  be- 
gan to  fear  he  would  never  recover.  He  was  too  morbid 
to  be  just  to  any  one,  even  himself,  an'i  he  felt  that  she 
had  Joserted  and  turned  against  him  ::iso,  iorgetting  that 
he  had  given  her  no  clue  to  his  present  place*  of  abode, 
and  had  seni  ?.  .nessage  indicating  that  he  would  regard 
any  effort  to  discover  him  as  officious  and  intrusive.  He 
quite  honestly  believed  that  by  this  time  she  had  come  to 
share  in  the  general  contempt  and  hostility  which  is  ever 
cherished  toward  those  whom  society  regards  as  not  only 
depraved  and  vile,  but  also  dangerous  to  its  peace.  It 
seemed  as  if  both  she  and  Laura  had  receded  from  him 
to  an  immeasurable  distance,  and  he  could  not  think  of 
either  without  almost  gnashing  his  teeth  in  rage  at  him- 
self, and  at  what  he  regarded  as  his  perverse  and  cruel 


A   PAPER  PONIARD.  205 

fate.  At  times  he  would  vainly  endeavor  to  banish  theif 
images  from  his  mind,  but  more  often  would  indulge  in- 
wild  and  impossible  visions  of  coming  back  to  them  in  a- 
dazzling  halo  of  literary  glory,  and  of  overwhelming 
them  with  humiliation  that  they  were  so  slow  to  recognize 
the  genius  which  smoldered  for  weeks  under  their  very 
eyes. 

But  his  dreams  were  in  truth  "baseless  fabrics,"  for 
at  last  there  came  a  letter  addressed  to  "  E.  H.,"  with 
the  name  of  a  popular  literary  paper  printed  upon  it. 
He  clutched  it  with  a  hand  that  shook  in  his  eagerness, 
and  walked  half  a  mile  before  finding  a  nook  sufficiently 
secluded  in  which  to  open  the  fateful  missive.  There 
were  moments  as  he  hastened  through  the  streets  when 
the  crumpled  letter  was  like  a  live  coal  in  his  hand  ; 
again  it  seemed  throbbing  with  fife,  and  he  held  it  tighter,, 
as  though  it  might  escape.  With  a  chill  at  heart  he  also* 
admitted  that  this  bit  of  paper  might  be  a  poniard  that 
would  stab  his  hope  and  so  destroy  him. 

He  eventually  entered  a  half-completed  dwelling,  which 
some  one  had  commenced  to  build  but  was  not  able  to 
finish.  It  was  a  wretched,  prosaic  place,  that  apparently 
had  lost  its  value  even  to  the  owner,  and  had  become  to 
the  pubhc  at  large  only  an  unsightly  blot  upon  the  street. 
There  was  no  danger  of  his  being  disturbed  here,  for  the 
walls  were  not  sufficiently  advanced  to  have  ears,  and 
even  a  modern  ghost  would  scorn  to  haunt  a  place  whose 
stains  were  not  those  of  age,  and  whose  crumbling  ruins 
resulted  only  from  superficial  and  half-finished  work. 
Indeed,  the  prematurely  old  and  abortive  house  had  its 
best  counterpart  in  the  young  man  himself,  who  stole  into 
one  of  its  small,  unplastered  rooms  with  many  a  wary 
glance,  as  though  it  were  a  treasure-vault  which  he  was 
bent  on  plundering. 

Feeling  at  last  secure  from  observation,  he  tremblingly 
opened  the  letter,  which  he  hoped  contained  the  first  in- 


^06   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

stallment  of  wealth  and  fame.  It  was,  indeed,  from  the 
editor  of  the  periodical,  and,  remembering  the  avalanche 
of  poetry  and  prose  from  beneath  which  this  unfortunate 
class  must  daily  struggle  into  life  and  being,  it  was  un- 
usually kind  and  full  ;  but  to  Haldane  it  was  cruel  as 
death — a  Spartan  short-sword,  only  long  enough  to  pierce 
his  heart.     It  was  to  the  following  effect  : 

E.  H. — Dear  Sir  : — It  would  be  easier  to  throw  your  com- 
munication into  the  waste-basket  than  thus  to  reply;  and  such, 
I  may  add,  is  the  usual  fate  of  productions  like  yours.  But 
something  in  your  letter  accompanying  the  MSS.  caught  my  at- 
tention, and  induced  me  to  give  you  a  little  good  advice,  which 
I  fear  you  will  not  take,  however.  You  are  evidently  a  young 
and  inexperienced  man,  and  I  gather  from  your  letter  that  you 
are  in  trouble  of  some  nature,  and,  also,  that  you  are  building 
hopes,  if  not  actually  depending,  upon  the  crude  labors  of  your 
pen.  Let  me  tell  you  frankly  at  once  that  literature  is  not  your 
forte.  If  you  have  sent  literary  work  to  other  parties  like  that 
inclosed  to  me  you  will  never  hear  from  it  again.  In  the  first 
place,  you  do  not  write  correctly ;  in  the  second,  you  have  noth- 
ing to  say.  We  cannot  afford  to  print  words  merely — much 
less  pay  for  them.  What  is  worse,  many  of  your  sentences  are 
so  unnatural  and  turgid  as  to  suggest  that  you  sought  in  stimu- 
lants a  remedy  for  paucity  of  ideas.  Take  friendly  advice. 
Attempt  something  that  you  are  capable  of  doing,  and  build 
your  hopes  on  t/iat.  Any  honest  work — even  sawing  wood — 
well  done,  is  better  than  childish  efforts  to  perform  what,  to  us, 
IS  impossible.  Before  you  can  do  any  thing  in  the  literary 
world  it  is  evident  that  years  of  culture  and  careful  reading 
would  be  necessary.  But,  as  I  have  before  said,  your  talents  do 
not  seem  to  lie  in  this  dnection.  Life  is  too  precious  to  be 
wasted  in  vain  endeavor ;  and  that  reminds  me  that  I  have 
spent  several  moments,  and  from  the  kindliest  motives,  in  stat- 
ing to  you  facts  which  you  may  regard  as  insults.  But  were  the 
circumstances  the  same  I  would  give  my  own  son  the  same  ad- 
vice. Do  not  be  discouraged ;  there  is  plenty  of  other  work 
equally  good  and  useful  as  that  for  which  you  seem  unfitted. 

Faithfully  yours, 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A    SORRY   KNIGHT. 

The  writer  has  known  men  to  receive  mortal  wounds 
in  battle,  of  which,  at  the  moment,  they  were  scarcely 
conscious.  The  mind,  in  times  of  grand  excitement,  has 
often  risen  so  far  superior  to  the  material  body  that  only 
by  trickling  blood  or  faintness  have  persons  become 
aware  of  their  injuries.  But  "  a  w'ounded  spirit,  who  can 
bear?"  and  when  did  hope,  self-love,  or  pride,  ever  re- 
ceive home-thrusts  unconsciously  ? 

The  well-meaning  letter,  written  by  the  kindly  editor, 
and  full  of  wholesome  advice,  cut  like  a  surgeon's  knife 
in  some  desperate  case  when  it  is  a  question  whether  th'e 
patient  can  endure  the  heroic  treatment  necessary.  Hal- 
dane's  stilted  and  unnatural  tales  had  been  projected  into 
being  by  such  fiery  and  violent  means  that  they  might 
almost  be  termed  volcanic  in  their  origin  ;  but  the  fused 
mass  which  was  the  result,  resembled  scoria  or  cinders 
rather  than  fine  metal  shaped  into  artistic  forms.  Al- 
though his  manuscripts  could  have  been  sold  in  the 
world's  market  only  by  the  pound,  he  had  believed,  or, 
at  least,  strongly  hoped  otherwise,  hke  so  many  others, 
who,  with  beating  hearts,  have  sent  the  children  of  their 
brains  out  to  seek  their  fortunes  with  no  better  results. 

The  unbroken  and  ominous  silence  or  the  returned 
manuscript  is  a  severe  disappointment  even  to  those  who 
from  safe  and  happy  homes  have  sought  to  gain  the  pub- 
lic ear,  and  whose  impelHng  motive  toward  literature  is 
scarcely  more  than  an  impulse  of  vanity.  But  to  Hal- 
dane  the  letter,  which  in  giving  the  editorial  estimate  of 
one  of  his  stories  revealed  the  fate  of  all  the  others, 
207 


2U8   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

broviglit  far  more  than  a  mere  disappointment.  It  brought 
despair  and  the  recklessness  and  demorahzation  which 
inevitably  follow.  The  public  regarded  him  as  a  de- 
praved, commonplace  vagabond,  eminent  only  in  his 
capacity  for  evil  and  meanness,  and  he  now  inclined 
strongly  to  the  same  view  of  himself.  True  self-respect 
he  had  never  possessed,  and  his  best  substitute,  pride,  at 
last  gave  way.  He  felt  that  he  was  defeated  for  life,  and 
the  best  that  Ufe  could  now  offer  was  a  brief  career  of 
sensual  pleasure.  Mrs.  Arnot  and  Laura  Romeyn  were 
as  far  removed  from  him  as  the  stars  ;  it  was  torment  to 
think  of  them,  and  he  would  blot  out  their  memory  and 
the  memory  of  all  that  he  had  hoped  for,  with  wine  and 
excitement.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  world  said  to  him 
with  united  voice,  "Go  to  the  devil,"  and  then  made  it 
impossible  for  him  to  do  otherwise. 

Since  he  was  defeated, — since  all  his  proud  assurances 
to  his  mother  that  he  would,  alone  and  unaided,  regain 
his  lost  good  name  and  position  in  society  had  proved  but 
empty  boasts, — he  would  no  longer  hide  the  fact  from 
her,  not  in  the  hope  of  being  received  at  home  as  a  re- 
pentant prodigal  (even  the  thought  of  such  a  course  was 
unendurable),  but  with  the  purpose  of  obtaining  from  her 
the  means  of  entering  upon  a  life  of  vicious  pleasure. 

The  young  man's  father — impelled  both  by  his  strong 
attachment  for  his  wife,  and  also  by  the  prudent  fore- 
thought with  which  men  seek  to  protect  and  provide  for 
those  they  love,  long  after  they  have  passed  away  from 
earthly  life — had  left  his  property  wholly  in  trust  to  his 
wife,  associating  with  her  one  or  two  other  chosen 
counselors.  As  long  as  she  lived  and  remained  unmar- 
ried she  controlled  it,  the  husband  trusting  to  her  affec- 
tion for  her  children  to  make  suitable  provision  for  them. 
He  had  seen  with  prophetic  anxiety  the  mother's  fond  in- 
dulgence of  their  only  son,  and  the  practical  man  dreaded 
the  consequences.     He  therefore  communicated  to  her 


A   SOEEY  KNIGHT.  209 

verbally,  and  also  embodied  in  his  will,  his  wish  that  his 
son  should  have  no  control  over  the  principal  of  such 
portion  of  the  estate  as  would  eventually  fall  to  him  until 
he  had  estabhshed  a  character  that  secured  the  con- 
fidence of  all  good  men,  and  satisfied  the  judgment  of 
the  cautious  co-executors.  The  provisions  of  the  will 
still  further  required  that,  should  the  young  man  prove 
erratic  and  vicious,  his  income  should  be  limited  in  such 
ways  as  would,  as  far  as  possible,  curb  excess. 

Haldane  knew  all  this,  and  in  the  days  of  his  con- 
fidence in  himself  and  his  brilliant  future  had  often 
smiled  at  these  "absurd  restrictions."  The  idea  that 
there  would  ever  be  any  reason  for  their  enforcement  was 
preposterous,  and  the  thought  of  his  fond,  weak  mother 
refusing  anything  that  he  demanded,  w^as  still  further  out 
of  the  range  of  possibihty. 

The  wretched  youth  now  sank  into  a  far  lower  depth 
than  he  had  ever  yet  reached.  He  dehberately  resolved 
to  take  advantage  of  that  mother's  weakness,  and  for  the 
basest  ends.  While  under  the  influence  of  hope  and 
pride,  he  had  resolved  to  receive  no  assistance  even  from 
her,  so  that  he  might  wholly  claim  the  credit  of  regain- 
ing all  that  he  had  lost ;  but  now,  in  the  recklessness  of 
despair,  he  proposed  not  only  to  ask  for  all  the  money  he 
could  obtain,  but,  if  necessary,  extort  it  by  any  means  in 
his  power. 

He  and  the  forlorn  place  of  his  bitter  revery  grew  more 
and  more  into  harmony.  The  small,  half- finished  apart- 
ment of  the  ruinous  new  house  became  more  truly  the 
counterpart  of  his  life.  It  was  bare  ;  it  was  unsightly 
from  the  debris  of  its  own  discolored  and  crumbling 
walls.  The  possibility  of  sweet  home  scenes  had  passed 
from  it,  and  it  had  become  a  place  in  which  an  orgy 
might  be  hidden,  or  some  revolting  crime  committed. 
To  precisely  this  use  Haldane  put  his  temporary  refuge 
before  leaving  it  ;  for  excesses  and  evil  deeds  that  the 


210   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

mind  has  deliberately  resolved  upon  are  virtually  accom- 
plished facts  as  far  as  the  wrong-doer  is  concerned.  Be- 
fore leaving  his  dingy  hiding-place  Haldane  had  in  the 
depths  of  his  soul  been  guilty  of  drunkenness  and  all 
kinds  of  excess.  He  also  purposed  unutterable  baseness 
toward  the  widowed  mother  whom,  by  every  principle  of 
true  manhood,  he  was  bound  to  cherish  and  shield  ;  and 
he  had  in  volition  more  certainly  committed  the  act  of 
self-destruction  than  does  the  poor  wretch  who,  under 
some  mad,  half-insane  impulse,  makes  permanent  by 
suicide  the  evils  a  little  fortitude  and  patient  effort  might 
have  remedied.  There  is  no  self-murder  so  hopeless  and 
wicked  as  that  of  deliberate  sin  against  one's  own  body 
and  soul. 

No  man  becomes  a  saint  or  villain  in  an  hour  or  by  a 
single  step  ;  but  there  are  times  when  evil  tendencies 
combine  with  adverse  influences  and  circumstances  to 
produce  sudden  and  seemingly  fatal  havoc  in  character. 
As  the  world  goes,  Haldane  was  a  well-meaning  youth, 
although  cursed  with  evil  habits  and  tendencies,  when  he 
entered  the  isolated,  half-finished  house.  He  was  bad 
and  devilish  when  he  came  out  upon  the  street  again, 
and  walked  recklessly  toward  the  city,  caring  not  who 
saw  or  recognized  him.  In  the  depths  of  his  heart  he 
had  become  an  enemy  to  society,  and,  so  far  from  hop- 
ing to  gain  its  respect  and  good-will,  he  defied  and  in- 
tended to  outrage  it  to  the  end  of  life. 

A  man  in  such  a  mood  gravitates  with  almost  certainty 
toward  the  liquor-saloon,  and  Haldane  naturally  com- 
menced drinking  at  the  various  dens  whose  doors  stood 
alluringly  open.  His  slender  purse  did  not  give  him  the 
choice  of  high-priced  wines,  and  to  secure  the  mad  ex- 
citement and  oblivion  he  craved,  only  fiery  compounds 
were  ordered — such  as  might  have  been  distilled  in  the 
infernal  regions  to  accomplish  infernal  results  ;  and  they 
soon  began  to  possess  him  like  a  legion  of  evil  spirits. 


A   SOERY  KNIGHT.  211 

If  Shakespeare  characterized  the  "  invisible  spirit  of 
wine  "  as  a  "  devil  "  in  the  unsophisticated  days  of  old, 
when  wine  was  wine,  and  not  a  hell-broth  concocted  of 
poisonous  drugs,  what  unspeakable  fiends  must  lurk  in 
the  grimy  bottles  whose  contents,  analyzed  and  explained, 
would  appall  some,  at  least,  of  the  stolid  and  stony- 
hearted venders  ! 

Haldane  soon  felt  himself  capable  of  any  wickedness, 
any  crime.  He  became  a  human  volcano,  that  might  at 
any  moment  pass  into  a  violent  and  murderous  action, 
regardless  of  consequences — indeed,  as  utterly  incapable 
of  foreseeing  and  realizing  them  as  the  mountain  that 
belches  destruction  on  vineyard  and  village. 

We  regard  ourselves  as  a  civilized  and  Christian  peo- 
ple, and  yet  we  tolerate  on  every  corner  places  where 
men  are  transformed  into  incarnate  devils,  and  sent  forth 
to  run  amuck  in  our  streets,  and  outrage  the  helpless 
women  and  children  in  their  own  homes.  The  naked  in- 
habitants of  Dahomey  could  do  no  worse  in  this  direction. 

But  Haldane  was  not  destined  to  end  his  orgy  in  the 
lurid  glare  of  a  tragedy,  for,  as  the  sun  declined,  the 
miserable  day  was  brought  to  a  wretched  and  fitting 
close.  Unconsciously  he  had  strayed  to  the  saloon  on 
whose  low  step  Messrs.  Van  Wink  and  Ketchem  had  left 
him  on  the  memorable  night  from  which  he  dated  his 
downfall.  Of  course  he  did  not  recognize  the  place,  but 
there  was  one  within  that  associated  him  inseparably 
with  it,  and  also  with  misfortunes  of  his  own.  As  Hal- 
dane leaned  unsteadily  against  the  bar  a  seedy-looking 
man  glared  at  him  a  moment,  and  then  stepped  to  his 
side,  saying, 

"  I'll  take  a  few  dhrinks  wid  ye.  Faix  !  after  all  the 
trouble  y'e've  been  to  me  ye  oughter  kape  me  in  dhrink 
the  year." 

Turning  to  the  speaker,  the  young  man  recognized  Pat 
M'Cabe,  whom  he  also  associated  with  his  evil  fortunes. 


212   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  toward  whom  he  now  felt  a  strong  vindictiveness, 
the  sudden  and  unreasoning  anger  of  intoxication.  In 
reply,  therefore,  he  threw  the  contents  of  his  glass  into 
Pat's  face,  saying  with  a  curse, 

"That  is  the  way  I  drink  with  such  as  you." 

Instantly  there  was  a  bar-room  brawl  of  the  ordinary 
brutal  type,  from  whose  details  we  gladly  escape.  At- 
tracted by  the  uproar,  a  policeman  was  soon  on  hand, 
and  both  the  combatants  were  arrested  and  marched  off 
to  the  nearest  police  station.  Bruised,  bleeding,  di- 
sheveled, and  with  rent  garments,  Haldane  again  passed 
through  the  streets  as  a  criminal,  with  the  rabble  hooting 
after  him.  But  now  there  was  no  intolerable  sense  of 
shame  as  at  first.  He  had  become  a  criminal  at  heart  ; 
he  had  dehberately  and  consciously  degraded  himself, 
and  his  whole  aspect  had  come  to  be  in  keeping  with  his 
character. 

It  may  be  objected  that  the  transformation  had  been 
too  rapid.  It  had  not  been  rapid.  His  mother  com- 
menced preparing  him  for  this  in  the  nursery  by  her  weak 
mdulgence.  She  had  sown  the  seeds  of  which  his  pres- 
ent actions  were  the  legitimate  outgrowth.  The  weeds  of 
his  evil  nature  had  been  unchecked  when  httle,  and  now 
they  were  growing  so  rank  as  to  overshadow  all. 

Multitudes  go  to  ruin  who  must  trace  their  wrong  bias 
back  to  cultivated  and  even  Christian  homes. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

GOD   SENT   HIS    ANGEL. 

The  mad  excitement  of  anger  and  drunkenness  was 
speedily  followed  by  stupor,  and  the  night  during  which 
Haldane  was  locked  up  in  the  station-house  was  a  blank. 
The  next  morning  he  was  decidedly  ill  as  the  result  of  his 
debauch ;  for  the  after-effects  of  the  vile  liquor  he  had 
drank  was  such  as  to  make  any  creature  save  rational 
man  shun  it  in  the  future  with  utter  loathing. 

But  the  officers  of  the  law  had  not  the  slightest  con- 
sideration for  his  aching  head  and  jarring  nerves.  He 
was  hustled  off  to  the  pohce  court  with  others,  and  he  now 
seemed  in  harmony  with  the  place  and  company. 

Pat  M'Cabe  was  a  veteran  in  these  matters,  and  had 
his  witnesses  ready,  who  swore  to  the  truth,  and  any 
thing  else  calculated  to  assist  Pat,  their  crony,  out  of  his 
scrape.  Unfortunately  for  Haldane,  the  truth  was  against 
him,  and  he  remained  sullen  and  silent,  making  no  de- 
fense. The  natural  result,  therefore,  of  the  brief  hearing, 
was  his  committal  to  the  common  jail  for  ten  days,  and 
the  liberation  of  Pat,  with  a  severe  reprimand. 

Thus,  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  brief  weeks,  Haldane 
found  himself  in  the  same  cell  whence  he  had  gone  out 
promising  and  expecting  to  accomplish  so  much.  He 
could  not  help  recalling  his  proud  words  to  his  mother 
and  Mrs.  Arnot  as  he  looked  around  the  bare  walls,  and 
he  was  sufficiently  himself  again  to  realize  partially  how 
complete  and  disgraceful  had  been  his  defeat.  But  such 
was  his  mood  that  it  could  find  no  better  expression  than 
a  malediction  upon  himself  and  the  world  in  general. 
Then,  throwing  himself  upon  his  rude  and  narrow  couch, 

213 


014   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

he  again  resigned  himself  to  his  stupor,  from  which  he 
had  been  aroused  to  receive  his  sentence. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  he  awoke,  and  his 
cell  was  already  growing  dusky  with  the  coming  night. 
It  was  a  place  congenial  to  shadows,  and  they  came 
early  and  lingered  till  the  sun  was  high. 

But  as  Haldane  slowly  regained  full  consciousness,  and 
recalled  all  that  had  transpired,  he  felt  himself  to  be 
under  a  deeper  shadow  than  the  night  could  cast.  The 
world  condemned  him,  and  he  deserved  condemnation  ; 
but  he  was  also  deserving  of  pity.  Scarcely  more  than 
twenty,  he  had  seemingly  spoiled  his  life  utterly.  It  was 
torment  to  remember  the  past,  and  the  future  was  still 
darker;  for  his  outraged  physical  nature  so  bitterly  re- 
sented its  wrongs  by  racking  pains  that  it  now  seemed  to 
him  that  even  a  brief  career  of  sensual  gratification  was 
impossible,  or  so  counterbalanced  with  suffering  as  to  be 
revolting.  Though  scarcely  more  than  across  the  thresh- 
old of  life,  existence  had  become  an  unmitigated  evil. 
Had  he  been  brought  up  in  an  atmosphere  of  flippant 
skepticism  he  would  have  flung  it  away  as  he  would  a 
handful  of  nettles  ;  but  his  childish  memory  had  been 
made  familiar  with  that  ancient  Book  whose  truths,  like 
anchors,  enabled  many  a  soul  on  the  verge  of  wreck  to 
outride  the  storm.  He  was  too  well  acquainted  with  its 
teachings  to  entertain  for  a  moment  the  shallow  theory 
that  a  man  can  escape  the  consequences  of  folly,  villainy, 
and  unutterable  baseness  by  merely  ceasing  to  breathe. 

He  could  not  eat  the  coarse  food  brought  to  him  for 
supper,  and  his  only  craving  was  for  something  to  quench 
his  feverish  thirst.  His  long  lethargy  was  followed  by 
corresponding  sleeplessness  and  preternatural  activity  of 
brain.  That  night  became  to  him  like  the  day  of  judg- 
ment ;  for  it  seemed  as  if  his  memory  would  recall  every- 
thing he  had  ever  done  or  said,  and  place  all  before  him 
in  the  most  dreary  and  discouraging  aspect. 


GOD  SENT  HIS  ANGEL.  21S 

He  saw  his  beautiful  and  aristocratic  home,  which  he 
had  forfeited  so  completely  that  the  prison  would  be  more 
endurable  than  the  forced  and  painful  toleration  of  his 
presence,  which  was  the  best  he  could  hope  for  from  his 
mother  and  sisters  ;  and  he  felt  that  he  would  much 
rather  stay  where  he  was  for  life  than  again  meet  old 
neighbors  and  companions.  But  he  now  saw  how,  with 
that  home  and  his  father's  honored  name  as  his  vantage 
ground,  he  might  have  made  himself  rich  and  honored. 

The  misspent  days  and  years  of  the  past  became  like 
so  many  reproachful  ghosts,  and  he  realized  that  he  had 
idled  away  the  precious  seed-time  of  his  life,  or,  rather, 
had  been  busy  sowing  thorns  and  nettles,  that  had  grown- 
all  too  quickly  and  rankly.  Thousands  had  been  spent 
on  his  education  ;  and  yet  he  was  oppressed  with  a  sense 
of  his  ignorance  and  helplessness.  Rude  contact  with 
the  world  had  thoroughly  banished  self-conceit,  and  he 
saw  that  his  mind  was  undisciplined  and  his  knowledge 
so  superficial  and  fragmentary  as  to  be  almost  useless. 
The  editor  of  the  paper  whose  columns  he  had  hoped  to- 
illumine  told  him  that  he  could  not  even  write  correctly. 

While  in  bitterness  of  soul  he  cursed  himself  for  his 
wasted  life,  he  knew  that  he  was  not  wholly  to  blame. 
Indeed,  in  accordance  with  a  trait  as  old  as  fallen  man, 
he  sought  to  lay  the  blame  on  another.  He  saw  that 
his  own  folly  had  ever  found  an  ally  in  his  mother's  in- 
dulgence, and  that,  instead  of  holding  him  with  a  firm,  yet 
gentle  hand  to  his  tasks  and  duties,  she  had  been  the  first 
to  excuse  him  from  them  and  to  palliate  his  faults.  In- 
stead of  recalling  her  fond  and  blind  idolatry  with  tender- 
ness, he  felt  like  one  who  had  been  treacherously  poisoned 
with  a  wine  that  was  sweet  while  it  rested  on  the  palate, 
but  whose  after-taste  is  vile,  and  whose  final  effect  is  death. 

There  is  no  memory  that  we  cherish  so  sacredly  and 
tenderly  as  that  of  our  parents'  kind  and  patient  love.  It 
often  softens  the  heart  of  the  hardened  man  and  aban- 


5216   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

doncd  woman  when  all  other  influences  are  powerless. 
Ikit  when  love  degenerates  into  idolatry  and  indulgence, 
and  those  to  whom  the  child  is  given  as  a  sacred  trust 
permit  it  to  grow  awry,  and  develop  into  moral  deformity, 
men  and  women,  as  did  Haldane,  may  breathe  curses  on 
the  blindness  and  weakness  that  was  the  primal  cause  of 
their  life-failure.  Throughout  that  long  and  horrible 
night  he  felt  only  resentment  toward  his  mother,  and 
cherished  no  better  purpose  toward  her  than  was  em- 
bodied in  his  plan  to  wring  from  her,  even  by  methods 
that  savored  of  black-mail,  the  means  of  living  a  dissi- 
pated life  in  some  city  where  he  was  unknown,  and  could 
lose  himself  in  the  multitude. 

But  the  ten  days  of  enforced  seclusion  and  sohtude 
that  must  intervene  seemed  like  an  eternity.  With  a 
shudder  he  thought  of  the  real  eternity,  beyond,  when 
the  power  to  excite  or  stupefy  his  lower  nature  would  be 
gone  forever.  That  shadow  was  so  dark  and  cold  that 
it  seemed  to  chill  his  very  soul,  and  by  a  resolute  effort 
of  Avill  he  compelled  his  mind  to  dwell  only  on  the  im- 
mediate future  and  the  past. 

Day  at  last  dawned  slowly  and  dimly  in  his  cell,  and 
found  him  either  pacing  up  and  down  like  some  wild 
creature  in  its  cage,  turning  so  often  by  reason  of  the 
limited  space  as  to  be  almost  dizzy,  or  else  sitting  on  his 
couch  with  his  haggard  face  buried  in  his  hands. 

After  fighting  all  night  against  the  impulse  to  think 
about  Mrs.  Arnot  and  her  niece,  he  at  last  gave  up  the 
struggle,  and  permitted  his  mind  to  revert  to  them. 
Such  thoughts  were  only  pain  now,  and  yet  for  some 
reason  it  seemed  as  if  his  mind  were  drawn  irresistibly 
toward  them.  He  felt  that  his  deep  regret  was  as  useless 
and  unavailing  as  the  November  wind  that  sweeps  back 
and  forth  the  withered  and  fallen  leaves.  His  whole  frame 
would  at  times  tremble  with  gusts  of  remorseful  passion, 
and  again  he  would  sigh  long  and  drearily. 


GOD  SENT  HIS  ANGEL.  217 

He  now  realized  what  a  priceless  opportunity  he  had 
lost.  It  was  once  his  privilege  to  enter  Mrs.  Arnot's  beau- 
tiful home  assured  of  welcome.  She  had  been  deeply 
interested  in  him  for  his  mother's  sake,  and  might  have 
become  so  for  his  own.  He  had  been  privileged  to  meet 
Laura  Romeyn  as  her  equal,  at  least  in  social  estimation,, 
and  he  might  have  made  himself  worthy  of  her  esteem, 
and  possibly  of  her  affection.  He  saw  that  he  had  fool- 
ishly clamored,  like  a  spoiled  child,  for  that  which  he 
could  only  hope  to  possess  by  patient  waiting  and  manly 
devotion  ;  and  now,  with  a  regret  that  was  like  a  serpent's 
tooth,  he  felt  that  such  devotion  might  have  been  rewarded. 

But  a  few  months  ago,  whose  life  had  been  more  rich 
with  promise  than  his,  or  to  whom  had  been  given  a 
better  vantage-ground?  And  yet  he  had  already  found 
the  lowest  earthly  perdition  possible,  and  had  lost  hope 
of  any  thing  better. 

In  his  impotent  rage  and  despair  he  fairly  gnashed  his 
teeth  and  cursed  himself,  his  fate,  and  those  who  had  led 
to  his  evil  fortunes.  Then,  by  a  natural  revulsion  of 
feeling,  he  sobbed  like  a  child  that  has  lost  its  way  and 
can  discover  no  returning  path,  and  whose  heart  the 
darkness  of  the  fast-approaching  night  fills  with  unutter- 
able dread. 

He  was  a  criminal — in  his  despair  he  never  hoped  ta 
be  any  thing  else— but  he  was  not  a  hardened  criminal 
and  was  still  capable  of  wishing  to  be  different.  In  the 
memory  of  his  bitter  experience  a  pure  and  honorable 
life  now  appeared  as  beautiful  as  it  was  impossible.  He 
had  no  expectation,  however,  of  ever  living  such  a  life, 
for  pride,  the  corner-stone  of  his  character,  had  given 
way,  and  he  was  too  greatly  discouraged  at  the  time  to> 
purpose  reform  even  in  the  future.  Without  the  spur  and 
incentive  of  hope  we  become  perfectly  helpless  in  evil  ; 
therefore  all  doctrines  and  philosophies  which  tend  to 
quench  or  limit  hope,  or  which  are  bounded  by  the  nar- 


■218   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

TOW  horizon  of  time  and  earth,  are,  in  certain  emergen- 
cies, but  dead  weightS;  '^ "Egging  down  the  soul. 

At  last,  from  sheer  exhaustion,  he  threw  himself  on  his 
couch,  and  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep,  filled  with  broken 
and  distorted  visions  of  the  scenes  that  had  occupied  his 
"Waking  hours.  But  he  gradually  became  quieter,  and  it 
appeared  in  his  dream  as  if  he  saw  a  faint  dawning  in 
the  east  which  grew  brighter  until  a  distinct  ray  of  light 
streamed  from  an  infinite  distance  to  himself.  Along 
this  shining  pathway  an  angel  seemed  approaching  him. 
The  vision  grew  so  distinct  and  real  that  he  started  up 
and  saw  Mrs.  Arnot  sitting  in  the  doorway,  quietly 
"watching  him.  Confused  and  oblivious  of  the  past,  he 
■stepped  forward  to  speak  to  her  with  the  natural  instinct 
■of  a  gentleman.  Then  the  memory  of  all  that  had  oc- 
curred rolled  before  him  like  a  black  torrent,  and  he 
shrank  back  to  his  couch  and  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands.  But  when  Mrs.  Arnot  came  and  placed  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder,  saying  gently,  but  very  gravely, 
■"  Egbert,  since  you  would  not  come  to  me  I  have  come 
to  you,"  he  felt  that  his  vision  was  still  true,  and  that 
God  had  sent  His  angel. 


CHAPTER  XXVIIl. 

FACING   THE   CONSEQUENCES. 

A  YOUNG  man  of  Haldane's  age  is  capable  of  despair- 
ing thoughts,  and  even  of  desperate  moods,  of  quite 
extended  continuance ;  but  it  usually  requires  a  long- 
life-time  of  disaster  and  sin  to  bury  hope  so  deep  that  the 
stone  of  its  sepulcher  is  not  rolled  away  as  the  morning 
dawns.  Haldane  had  thought  that  his  hope  was  dead  ;. 
but  Mrs.  Arnot's  presence,  combined  with  her  manner, 
soon  made  it  clear,  even  to  himself,  that  it  was  not ;  and. 
yet  it  was.  but  a  weak  and  trembling  hope,  scarcely  as- 
sured of  its  right  to  exist,  that  revived  at  her  touch  and 
voice.  His  heart  both  clung  to  and  shrank  from  the 
pure,  good  woman  who  stood  beside  him. 

He  trembled,  and  his  breast  heaved  convulsively  for  a 
few  moments,  and  she  quietly  waited  until  he  should 
grow  more  calm,  only  stroking  his  bowed  head  once  or 
twice  with  a  slight  and  reassuring  caress.  At  last  he 
asked  in  a  low,  hoarse  voice, 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  am  here?  " 

"  Yes,  Egbert." 

"And    yet   you    have    come    in    kindness — in  mercy, - 
rather." 

"  I  have  come  because  I  am  deeply  interested  in  you." 

"  I  am  not  worthy — I  am  not  fit  for  you  to  touch." 
'  I  am  glad  you  feel  so." 

"Then  why  do  you  come?" 

"  Because  I  wish  to  help  you  to  become  worthy." 

"That's  impossible.     It's  too  late." 

"  Perhaps  it  is.  That  is  a  question  for  you  alone  to  de- 
cide ;  but  I  wish  you  to  think  well  before  you  do  decide  it." 

"Pardon  me,  Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  said  emphatically,  rais- 
219 


220    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ing  his  head,  and  dashing  away  bitter  tears  ;  "  the  world 
has  decided  that  question  for  me,  and  all  have  said  in 
one  harsh,  united  voice,  'You  shall  not  rise.'  It  has 
ground  me  under  its  heel  as  vindictively  as  if  I  were  a 
viper.  You  are  so  unlike  the  world  that  you  don't  know 
it.     It  has  given  me  no  chance  whatever." 

"  Egbert,  what  have  you  to  do  with  the  world?  " 

"  God  knows  I  wanted  to  recover  what  I  had  lost,"  he 
continued  in  the  same  rapid  tone.  "God  knows  I  left 
this  cell  weeks  since  with  the  honest  purpose  of  working 
my  way  up  to  a  position  that  would  entitle  me  to  your 
respect,  and  change  my  mother's  shame  into  pride.  But  I 
found  a  mad-dog  cry  raised  against  me.  And  this  pro- 
fessedly Christian  town  has  fairly  hunted  me  back  to  this 
prison." 

Mrs.  Arnot  sighed  deeply,  but  after  a  moment  said, 
"  I  do  not  excuse  the  Christian  town,  neither  can  I  ex- 
cuse you." 

"  You  too,  then,  blame  me,  and  side  against  me." 

"No,  Egbert,  I  side  with  you,  and  yet  I  blame  you 
deeply  ;  but  I  pity  you  more." 

He  rose,  and  paced  the  cell  with  his  old,  restless  steps. 
"'It's  no  use,"  he  said  ;  "  the  world  says,  'Go  to  the 
devil,'  and  gives  me  no  chance  to  do  otherwise." 

"  Do  you  regard  the  world — whatever  you  may  mean, 
by  the  phrase — as  your  friend  ?  " 

"  Friend  !  "  he  repeated,  with  bitter  emphasis. 

"  Why,  then,  do  you  take  its  advice?  I  did  not  come 
here  to  tell  you  to  go  to  perdition." 

"  But  if  the  world  sets  its  face  against  me  like  a  flint, 
what  is  there  for  me  to  do  but  to  remain  in  prison  or  hide 
in  a  desert,  unless  I  do  what  I  had  purposed,  defy  it  and 
strike  back,  though  it  be  only  as  a  worm  that  tries  to 
sting  the  foot  that  crushes  it." 

"  Egbert,  if  you  should  die,  the  world  would  forget  that 
you  had  ever  existed,  in  a  few  days." 


FACING    THE  CONSEQUENCES.  221 

"  Certainly.  It  would  give  me  merely  a  passing  thought 
as  of  a  nuisance  that  had  been  abated." 

"  Well,  then,  would  it  not  be  wise  to  forget  the  world 
for  a  little  while  ?  You  are  shut  away  from  it  for  the 
present,  and  it  cannot  molest  you.  In  the  meantime  you 
can  settle  some  very  important  personal  questions.  The 
world  has  power  over  your  fate  only  as  you  give  it  power. 
You  need  not  he  like  a  helpless  worm  in  its  path,  waiting 
to  be  crushed.  Get  up  like  a  man,  and  take  care  of  your- 
self. The  world  may  let  you  starve,  but  it  cannot  pre- 
vent you  from  becoming  good  and  true  and  manly  ;  if  you 
do  become  so,  however,  rest  assured  the  world  will  eventu- 
ally find  a  place  for  you,  and,  perhaps,  an  honored  place. 
But  be  that  as  it  may,  a  good  Christian  man  is  sustained 
by  something  far  more  substantial  than  the  world' s  breath. " 

Out  of  respect  for  Mrs.  Arnot,  Haldane  was  silent.  He 
supposed  that  her  proposed  remedy  for  his  desperate 
troubles  was  that  he  should  "become  a  Christian,"  and 
to  this  phrase  he  had  learned  to  give  only  the  most  con- 
ventional meaning. 

"Becoming  a  Christian,"  in  his  estimation,  was  the 
making  of  certain  professions,  going  through  peculiar  and 
abnormal  experiences,  and  joining  a  church,  the  object 
of  all  this  being  to  escape  a  "  wrath  to  come  "  in  the  in- 
definite future.  To  begin  with,  he  had  not  the  slightest 
idea  how  to  set  in  motion  these  spiritual  evolutions,  had 
he  desired  them  ;  and  to  his  intense  and  practical  nature 
the  whole  subject  was  as  unattractive  as  a  library  of 
musty  and  scholastic  books.  He  wanted  some  remedy 
that  applied  to  this  world,  and  would  help  him  now.  He 
did  not  associate  Mrs.  Arnot's  action  with  Christian  prin- 
ciple, but  believed  it  to  be  due  to  the  peculiar  and 
natural  kindness  of  her  heart.  Christians  in  general  had 
not  troubled  themselves  about  him,  and,  as  far  as  he 
could  judge,  had  turned  as  coldly  from  him  as  had  others. 
His  mother  had  always  been  regarded  as  an  eminently 


222   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

religious  woman,  and  yet  he  knew  that  she  was  morbidly 
sensitive  to  the  world's  opinion  and  society's  verdict. 

From  childhood  he  had  associated  religion  with  nu- 
merous Sunday  restraints  and  the  immaculate  mourning- 
dress  which  seemed  chiefly  to  occupy  his  mother's 
thoughts  during  the  hour  preceding  service.  He  had  no 
conception  of  a  faith  that  could  be  to  him  what  the 
Master's  strong  sustaining  hand  was  to  the  disciple  who 
suddenly  found  himself  sinking  in  a  stormy  sea. 

It  is  not  strange  that  the  distressed  in  body  or  mind 
(turn  away  from  a  religion  of  dreary  formalities  and  vague, 
uncomprehended  mental  processes.  Instant  and  practi- 
cal help  is  what  is  craved  ;  and  just  such  help  Christ  ever 
gave  when  He  came  to  manifest  God's  will  and  ways  to 
men.  By  whose  authority  do  some  religious  teachers 
■now  lead  the  suffering  through  such  a  round-about,  in- 
tricate, or  arid  path  of  things  to  be  done  and  doctrines  to 
be  accepted  before  bringing  them  to  Christ? 

But  when  a  mind  has  become  mystified  with  pre- 
conceived ideas  and  prejudices,  it  is  no  easy  task  to  reveal 
to  them  the  truth,  however  simple.  Mrs.  Arnot  had  come 
into  the  light  but  slowly  herself,  and  she  had  passed 
through  too  many  deep  and  prolonged  spiritual  experi- 
ences to  hope  for  any  immediate  and  radical  change  in 
Haldane.  Indeed,  she  was  in  great  doubt  whether  he 
would  ever  receive  the  faithful  words  she  proposed  speak- 
ing to  him  ;  and  she  fully  believed  that  any  thing  he 
attempted  in  his  own  strength  would  again  end  in  dis- 
heartening failure. 

"  Egbert,"  she  said  gently,  but  very  gravely,  "  have 
you  fully  settled  it  in  your  own  mind  that  I  am  your  friend 
and  wish  you  well  ?  ' ' 

"  How  can  I  believe  otherwise,  since  you  are  here,  and 
speaking  to  me  as  you  do  ? " 

"  W'ell,  I  am  going  to  test  your  faith  in  me  and  my 
kindness.      I    am  going  to  speak  plainly,  and  perhaps 


FACING    THE  CONSEQUENCES.  223 

you  may  think  even  harshly.  You  are  very  sick,  and 
if  I  am  to  be  your  physician  I  must  give  you  some  sharp, 
decisive  treatment.  Will  you  remember  through  it  all 
that  my  only  motive  is  to  make  you  well  ?  " 

"  I  will  try  to." 

*'  You  have  kept  away  from  me  a  long  time.  Perhaps 
when  released  from  this  place  you  will  again  avoid  me, 
and  I  may  never  have  another  opportunity  like  the  pres- 
ent. Now,  while  you  have  a  chance  to  think,  I  am  go- 
ing to  ask  you  to  face  the  consequences  of  your  present 
course.  Within  an  hour  after  passing  out  of  this  cell  you 
will  have  it  in  your  power  to  trample  on  your  better  na- 
ture and  stupefy  your  mind.  But  now,  if  you  will,  you 
have  a  chance  to  use  the  powers  God  has  given  you,  and 
settle  finally  on  your  plan  of  life." 

"I  have  already  trampled  on  my  manhood — what  is 
worse,  I  have  lost  it.  I  haven't  any  courage  or  strength 
left." 

"  That  can  scarcely  be  true  of  one  but  little  more  than 
twenty.  You  are  to  be  here  in  quietness  for  the  next  ten 
days,  I  learn.  It  is  my  intention,  so  far  as  it  is  in  my 
power  to  bring  it  about,  that  you  deliberately  face  the 
consequences  of  your  present  course  during  this  time. 
By  the  consequences  I  do  not  mean  what  the  world  will 
think  of  you,  but,  rather,  the  personal  results  of  your  ac- 
tion— what  you  must  suffer  while  you  are  in  the  world, 
and  what  you  must  suffer  when  far  beyond  the  world. 
Egbert,  are  you  pleased  with  yourself?  are  you  satisfied 
with  yourself?  " 

"  I  loathe  myself." 

"You  can  get  aw^ay  from  the  world — you  are  away 
from  it  now,  and  soon  you  will  be  away  from  it  finally — 
but  you  can  never  get  away  from  yourself.  Are  you 
willing  to  face  an  eternal  consciousness  of  defeat,  failure, 
and  personal  baseness  ?  " 

He  shuddered,  but  was  silent. 


224   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Tlicre  is  no  place  in  (}od's  pure  heaven  for  the 
drunkard — the  morally  loathsome  and  deformed.  Are 
you  willing  to  be  swept  away  among  the  chaff  and  the 
thorns,  and  to  have,  forever,  the  shameful  and  humiliat- 
ing knowledge  that  you  rightfully  belong  to  the  rubbish 
of  the  universe  ?  Are  you  willing  to  have  a  sleepless 
memory  tell  you  in  every  torturing  way  possible  what  a 
noble,  happy  man  you  might  have  been,  but  would  not 
be  ?  Your  power  to  drown  memory  and  conscience,  and 
stupefy  your  mind,  will  last  a  little  while  only  at  best. 
How  are  you  going  to  endure  the  time  when  you  must 
remember  every  thing  and  think  of  every  thing  ?  These 
are  more  important  questions  than  what  the  world  thinks 
of  you." 

"  Have  you  no  pity  ?  "  he  groaned. 

"Yes,  my  heart  overflows  with  pity.  Is  it  not  kind- 
ness to  tell  you  whither  your  path  is  leading?  If  I  had 
the  power  I  would  lay  hold  of  you,  and  force  you  to 
come  with  me  into  the  path  of  life  and  safety,"  she  an- 
swered, with  a  rush  of  tears  to  her  eyes. 

Her  sympathy  touched  him  deeply,  and  disarmed  her 
words  of  all  power  to  awaken  resentment, 

"  Mrs,  Arnot,"  he  cried,  passionately,  "I  did  mean 
— I  did  try — to  do  better  when  I  left  this  place  ;  but,  be- 
tween my  own  accursed  weakness  and  the  hard-hearted 
world,  I  am  here  again,  and  almost  without  hope." 

"  Egbert,  though  I  did  not  discourage  you  at  the  time, 
I  had  little  hope  of  your  accomplishing  any  thing  when 
you  left  this  cell  some  weeks  since.  You  went  out  to  re- 
gain your  old  position  and  the  world's  favor,  as  one 
might  look  for  a  jewel  or  sum  of  money  he  had  lost. 
You  can  never  gain  even  these  advantages  in  the  way 
you  proposed,  and  if  you  enjoy  them  again  the  cause 
will  exist,  not  in  what  you  do  only,  but  chiefly  in  what 
you  are.  When  you  started  out  to  win  the  favor  of  so- 
ciety, from  which  you  had  been  alienated  partly  by  mis- 


FACING    THE   CONSEQUENCES.  225 

fortune,  but  largely  through  your  own  wrong  action, 
there  was  no  radical  change  in  your  character,  or  even 
in  your  controlling  motives.  You  regretted  the  evil  be- 
cause of  its  immediate  and  disagreeable  consequences. 
I  do  not  excuse  the  world's  harshness  toward  the  erring  ; 
but,  after  all,  if  you  can  disabuse  your  mind  of  prejudice 
you  will  admit  that  its  action  is  very  natural,  and  would, 
probably,  have  been  your  own  before  you  passed  under 
this  cloud.  Consider  what  the  world  knows  of  you.  It, 
after  all,  is  quite  shrewd  in  judging  whom  it  may  trust 
and  whom  it  is  safe  to  keep  at  arm's  length.  Knowing 
yourself  and  your  own  weaknesses  as  you  do,  could  you 
honestly  recommend  yourself  to  the  confidence  of  any 
one  ?  With  your  character  unchanged,  what  guarantee 
have  you  against  the  first  temptation  or  gust  of  passion  to 
which  you  are  subjected  ?  You  had  no  lack  of  wounded 
pride  and  ambition  when  you  started  out,  but  you  will 
surely  admit  that  such  feehngs  are  of  little  value  com- 
pared with  Christian  integrity  and  manly  principle,  which 
render  any  thing  dishonorable  or  base  impossible. 

"  I  do  not  consider  the  world's  favor  worth  very  much, 
but  the  world's  respect  is,  for  it  usually  respects  only 
what  is  respectable.  As  you  form  a  character  that  you 
can  honestly  respect  yourself,  you  will  find  society  grad- 
ually learning  to  share  in  that  esteem.  Believe  me,  Eg- 
bert, if  you  ever  regain  the  world's  lost  favor,  which  vol' 
value  so  highly,  you  will  discover  the  first  earnest  of  i: 
in  your  own  changed  and  purified  character.  The  world 
will  pay  no  heed  to  any  amount  of  self-assertion,  and 
will  remain  equally  indifferent  to  appeals  and  upbraid- 
ings  ;  but  sooner  or  later  it  will  find  out  just  what  you 
are  in  your  essential  life,  and  will  estimate  you  accord- 
ingly. I  have  dwelt  on  this  phase  of  your  misfortune 
fully,  because  I  see  that  it  weighs  so  heavily  on  your 
heart.  Can  you  accept  my  judgment  in  the  matter?  Re- 
member, I  have  lived  nearly  three  times  as  long  as  you 


226  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

have,  and  speak  from  ripe  experience.  I  have  always 
been  a  close  observer  of  society,  and  am  quite  sure  I  am 
right.  If  you  were  my  own  son  I  would  use  the  same 
words." 

"  Mrs.  Arnol,"  he  replied  slowly,  with  contracted 
brow,  "you  are  giving  me  much  to  think  about.  I  fear 
I  have  been  as  stupid  as  I  have  been  bad.  My  whole 
life  seems  one  wretched  blunder," 

"  Ah,  if  you  will  only  think,  I  shall  have  strong  hopes 
of  you.  But  in  measuring  these  questions  do  not  use  the 
inch  rule  of  time  and  earth  only.  As  I  have  said  before, 
remember  you  will  soon  have  done  with  earth  forever, 
but  never  can  you  get  away  from  God,  nor  be  rid  of 
yourself.  You  are  on  wretched  terms  with  both,  and 
will  be,  whatever  happens,  until  your  nature  is  brought 
into  harmony  with  God's  will.  We  are  so  made,  so  de- 
signed in  our  every  fiber,  that  evil  tortures  us  like  a  dis- 
eased nerve  ;  and  it  always  will  till  we  get  rid  of  it. 
Therefore,  Egbert,  remember — O  that  I  could  burn  it 
into  your  consciousness — the  best  you  can  gain  from  your 
proposed  evil  course  is  a  brief  respite  in  base  and  sensual 
stupefaction,  or  equally  artificial  and  unmanly  excite- 
ment, and  then  endless  waking,  bitter  memories,  and 
torturing  regret.  Face  this  truth  now,  before  it  is  too 
late.  Good-by  for  a  time.  I  will  come  again  when  I 
can  ;  or  you  can  send  for  me  when  you  please  ;  "  and 
she  gave  him  her  hand  in  cordial  pressure. 

He  did  not  say  a  word,  but  his  face  was  very  white, 
and  it  was  evident  that  her  faithful  words  had  opened  a 
prospect  that  had  simply  appalled  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

HOW   EVIL    ISOLATES. 

If  Haldane  had  been  left  alone  on  an  ice-floe  in  the 
Arctic  Ocean  he  could  scarcely  have  felt  worse  than  he 
did  during  the  remainder  of  the  day  after  Mrs.  Arnot's 
departure.  A  dreary  and  increasing  sense  of  isolation 
oppressed  him.  The  words  of  his  visitor,  "  What  have 
you  to  do  with  the  world?"  and  "  If  you  were  dead  i' 
would  forget  you  in  a  few  days,"  repeated  themselves 
over  and  over  again.  His  vindictive  feeling  against  so- 
ciety died  out  in  the  consciousness  of  his  w^eakness  and 
insignificance.  What  is  the  use  of  one's  smiting  a  moun- 
tain with  his  fist  ?  Only  the  puny  hand  feels  the  blow. 
The  world  became,  under  Mrs.  Arnot's  words,  too  large 
and  vague  a  generality  even  to  be  hated. 

In  order  to  be  a  misanthrope  one  must  also  be  an  ego- 
tist, dwarfing  the  objects  of  his  spite,  and  exaggerating 
the  small  atom  that  has  arrayed  itself  against  the  uni- 
verse. It  is  a  species  of  insanity,  wherein  a  mind  has 
lost  perception  of  the  correct  relationship  between  differ- 
ent existences.  The  poor  hypochondriac  who  imagined 
himself  a  mountain  was  a  hving  satire  on  many  of  his 
fellow-creatures,  who  differ  only  in  being  able  to  keep 
similar  delusions  to  themselves. 

Mrs.  Arnot's  plain,  honest,  yet  kindly  words  had  thrown 
down  the  walls  of  prejudice,  and  Haldane's  mind  lay 
open  to  the  truth.  As  has  been  said,  his  first  impression 
was  a  strange  and  miserable  sense  of  loneliness.  He  saw 
what  a  slender  hold  he  had  upon  the  rest  of  humanity. 
The  majority  knew  nothing  of  him,  while,  with  few  ex- 
ceptions, those  who  were  aware  of  his  existence  despised 

227 


228    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  detested  him,  and  would  breathe  more  freely  if  as- 
sured of  his  death.  He  instinctively  felt  that  the  natural 
affections  of  his  mother  and  sisters  were  borne  down  and 
almost  overwhelmed  by  his  course  and  character.  If 
they  had  any  visitors  in  the  seclusion  to  which  his  dis- 
grace had  driven  them,  his  name  would  be  avoided  with 
morbid  sensitiveness,  and  yet  all  would  be  as  painfully 
conscious  of  him  as  if  he  were  a  corpse  in  the  room, 
which  by  some  monstrous  necessity  could  not  be  buried. 
While  they  might  shed  natural  tears,  he  was  not  sure  but 
that  deep  in  their  hearts  would  come  a  sense  of  relief 
should  they  hear  that  he  was  dead,  and  so  could  not 
deepen  the  stain  he  had  already  given  to  a  name  once  so 
respectable.  He  knew  that  his  indifference  and  over- 
bearing manner  toward  his  sisters  had  alienated  them 
from  him  ;  while  in  respect  to  Mrs.  Haldane,  her  aristo- 
cratic conventionality,  the  most  decided  trait  of  her  char- 
acter, would  always  be  in  sharp  contest  with  her  strong 
mother-love,  and  thus  he  would  ever  be  only  a  source  of 
disquiet  and  wretchedness  whether  present  or  absent.  In 
view  of  the  discordant  elements  and  relations  now  exist- 
ing, there  was  not  a  place  on  earth  less  attractive  than 
his  own  home. 

It  may  at  first  seem  a  contradiction  to  say  that  the 
thought  of  Mrs.  Arnot  gave  him  a  drearier  sense  of  isola- 
tion than  the  memory  of  all  else.  In  her  goodness  she 
seemed  to  belong  to  a  totally  different  world  from  himself 
and  people  in  general.  He  had  nothing  in  common  with 
her.  She  seemed  to  come  to  him  almost  literally  as  an 
angel  of  mercy,  and  from  an  infinite  distance,  and  her 
visits  must,  of  necessity,  be  like''  those  of  the  angels,  few 
and  far  between,  and,  in  view  of  his  character,  must  soon 
cease.  He  shrank  from  her  purity  and  nobility  even 
while  drawn  toward  her  by  her  sympathy.  He  instinct- 
ively felt  that  in  all  her  deep  commiseration  of  him  she 
could  not  for  a  moment  tolerate  the  debasing  evil  of  his 


HOW  EVIL   ISOLATES.  229 

nature,  and  that  this  evil,  retained,  would  speedily  and  in- 
evitably separate  them  forever.  Could  he  be  rid  of  it? 
He  did  not  know.  He  could  not  then  see  how.  In  his 
weakness  and  despondency  it  seemed  inwrought  with 
every  fiber  of  his  being,  and  an  essential  part  of  himself. 
As  for  Laura,  she  was  like  a  bright  star  that  had  set,  and 
was  no  longer  above  his  dim  horizon. 

As  he  felt  himself  thus  losing  his  hold  on  the  compan- 
ionship and  remembrance  of  others,  he  was  thrown  back 
upon  himself,  and  this  led  him  to  feel  with  a  sort  of  dreary 
foreboding  that  it  would  be  a  horrible  thing  thus  to  be 
chained  forever  to  a  self  toward  which  the  higher  facul- 
ties of  his  soul  must  ever  cherish  only  hatred  and  loath- 
ing. Even  now  he  hated  himself — nay,  more,  he  was  en- 
raged with  himself — in  view  of  the  folly  of  which  he  had 
been  capable.  What  could  be  worse  than  the  endless 
companionship  of  the  base  nature  which  had  already 
dragged  him  down  so  low  ? 

As  the  hours  passed,  the  weight  upon  his  heart  grew 
heavier,  and  the  chill  of  dread  more  unendurable.  He 
saw  his  character  as  another  might  see  it.  He  saw  a  na- 
ture to  which,  from  infancy,  a  wrong  bias  had  been  given, 
made  selfish  by  indulgence,  imperious  and  strong  only  in 
carrying  out  impulses  and  in  gratifying  base  passions,  but 
weak  as  water  in  resisting  evil  and  thwarting  its  vile  in- 
clinations. The  pride  and  hope  that  had  sustained  him 
in  what  he  regarded  as  the  great  effort  of  his  life  were 
gone,  and  he  felt  neither  strength  nor  courage  to  attempt 
anything  further.  He  saw  himself  helpless  and  prostrate 
before  his  fate,  and  yet  that  fate  was  so  terrible  that  he 
shrank  from  it  with  increasing  dread. 

What  could  he  do  ?  Was  it  possible  to  do  any  thing  ? 
Had  he  not  lost  his  footing  ?  If  a  man  is  caught  in  the 
rapids,  up  to  a  certain  point  his  struggle  against  the  tide 
is  full  of  hope,  but  beyond  that  point  no  effort  can  avail. 
Had  he  not  been  swept  so  far  down  toward  the  final 


230   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

plunge  that  grim  despair  were  better  than  frantic  but 
vain  effort  ? 

And  yet  he  felt  that  he  could  not  give  himself  up  to  the 
absolute  mastery  of  evil  without  one  more  struggle.  Was 
there  any  chance?  Was  he  capable  of  making  the  need- 
ful effort  ? 

Thus  hopes  and  fears,  bitter  memories  and  passionate 
regrets,  swept  to  and  fro  through  his  soul  like  stormy 
gusts.  A  painful  experience  and  Mrs.  Arnot's  words 
were  teaching  the  giddy,  thoughtless  young  fellow  what 
life  meant,  and  were  forcing  upon  his  attention  the  in- 
evitable questions  connected  with  it  which  must  be  solved 
sooner  or  later,  and  which  usually  grow  more  difficult  as 
the  consideration  of  them  is  delayed,  and  they  become 
complicated.  As  his  cell  grew  dusky  with  its  early  twi- 
light, as  he  thought  of  another  long  night  whose  darkness 
would  be  light  compared  with  the  shadow  brooding  on 
his  prospects,  his  courage  and  endurance  gave  way. 

With  something  of  the  feeling  of  a  terror-stricken  child 
he  called  the  under-sheriff,  and  asked  for  wridng  mate- 
rials.    With  a  pencil  he  wrote  hastily  : 

Mrs.  Arnot  : — I  entreat  you  to  visit  me  once  more  to-day. 
Your  words  have  left  me  in  torture.  I  cannot  face  the  conse- 
quences, and  yet  see  no  way  of  escape.  It  would  be  very  cruel 
to  leave  me  to  my  despairing  thoughts  for  another  night,  and 
you  are  not  cruel. 

In  dispatching  the  missive  he  said.  "  I  can  promise 
that  if  this  note  is  delivered  to  Mrs.  Arnot  at  once,  the 
bearer  shall  be  well  paid." 

Moments  seemed  hours  while  he  waited  for  an  answer. 
Suppose  the  letter  was  not  delivered — suppose  Mrs.  Ar- 
not was  absent.  A  hundred  miserable  conjectures  flitted 
through  his  mind  ;  but  his  confidence  in  his  friend  was 
such  that  even  his  morbid  fear  did  not  suggest  that  she 
would  not  come. 


HOW  EVIL  ISOLATES.  231- 

The  lady  was  at  the  dinner-table  when  the  note  was 
handed  to  her,  and  after  reading  it  she  rose  hastily  and 
excused  herself. 

•'  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  asked  her  husband  sharply. 

"  A  person  in  trouble  has  sent  for  me." 

"  Well,  unless  the  peno7i  is  in  the  midst  of  a  surgical 
operation,  he,  she,  or  it,  whichever  this  person  may  be, 
can  wait  till  you  finish  your  dinner." 

"  I  am  going  to  visit  Egbert  Haldane,"  said  Mrs.  Ar- 
not  quietly.  "Jane,  please  tell  Michael  to  come  round 
with  the  carriage  immediately." 

"You  visit  the  city  prison  at  this  hour!  Now  I  pro- 
test. The  young  rake  probably  has  the  dehrium  tremens. 
Send  our  physician  rather,  if  some  one  must  go,  though 
leaving  him  to  the  jailer  and  a  strait-jacket  would  be  bet- 
ter still." 

"  Please  excuse  me,"  answered  his  wife,  with  her  hand 
on  the  door-knob  ;  "  you  forget  my  relations  to  Mrs. 
Haldane  ;  her  son  has  sent  for  me." 

"  '  Her  relations  to  Mrs.  Haldane  !  "  As  if  she  were 
not  always  at  the  beck  and  call  of  every  beggar  and 
criminal  in  town  !  I  do  wish  I  had  a  wife  who  was  too 
much  of  a  lady  to  have  any  thing  to  do  with  this  low 
scum." 

A  few  moments  later  Mr.  Arnot  broke  out  anew  with 
muttered  complaint  and  invective,  as  he  heard  the  car- 
riage driven  rapidly  away. 

As  by  the  flickering  light  of  a  dip  candle  Mrs.  Arnot 
saw  Haldane' s  pale,  haggard  face,  she  did  not  regret 
that  she  had  come  at  once,  for  a  glance  gave  to  her  the 
evidence  of  a  human  soul  in  its  extremity. 

In  facing  these  deep  questions  of  life,  some  regard 
themselves  as  brave  or  philosophical.  Perhaps  it  were 
nearer  the  truth  to  say  they  are  stolid,  and  are  staring  at 
that  which  they  do  not  understand  and  cannot  yet  real- 
ize.    Where  in  history  do  we  read — who  from  a  ripe  ex- 


232  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

pericnce  can  give — an  instance  of  a  happy  life  develop- 
ing under  the  deepening  shadow  of  evil?  Suppose  one 
has  seen  high  types  of  character  and  happiness,  and  was 
capable  of  appreciating  them,  but  finds  that  he  has  cher- 
ished a  sottish,  beastly  nature  so  long  that  it  has  become 
his  master,  promising  to  hold  him  in  thralldom  ever  after- 
ward ; — can  there  be  a  more  wretched  form  of  captivity  ? 
The  ogre  of  a  debased  nature  drags  the  soul  away  from 
light  and  happiness — from  all  who  are  good  and  pure — 
to  the  hideous  solitude  of  self  and  memory. 

There  are -those  who  will  be  incredulous  and  even  re- 
sentful in  view  of  this  picture,  but  it  will  not  be  the  first 
time  that  facts  have  been  quarreled  with.  It  is  true  that 
many  are  writhing  and  groaning  in  this  cruel  bondage, 
mastered  and  held  captive  by  some  debasing  appetite  or 
passion,  perhaps  by  many.  Sometimes,  with  a  bitter, 
despairing  sorrow,  of  which  superficial  observers  of  life 
can  have  no  idea,  they  speak  of  these  horrid  chains  ; 
sometimes  they  tug  at  them  almost  frantically.  A  few 
escape,  but  more  are  dragged  down  and  away — away 
from  honorable  companionships  and  friendships  ;  away 
from  places  of  trust,  from  walks  of  usefulness  and  safety  ; 
away  from  parents,  from  wife  and  children,  until  the 
awful  isolation  is  complete,  and  the  guilty  soul  finds  it- 
self alone  with  the  sin  that  mastered  it,  conscious  that 
God  only  will  ever  see  and  remember.  Human  friends 
will  forget — they  must  forget  in  order  to  obtain  relief  from 
an  object  that  has  become  morally  too  unsightly  to  be 
looked  upon  ;  and  in  mercy  they  are  so  created  that  they 
can  forget,  though  it  may  be  long  before  it  is  possible. 

There  are  people  who  scout  this  awful  mystery  of  evil. 
They  have  beautiful  little  theories  of  their  own,  which 
they  have  spun  in  the  seclusion  of  their  studies.  They 
keep  carefully  within  their  shady,  flower-bordered  walks, 
and  ignore  the  existence  of  the  world's  dusty  highways, 
in  which  so  many  are  fainting  and  being  trampled  upon. 


HOW  EVIL  ISOLATES.  233 

What  tliey  do  not  see  does  not  exist.  What  they  do  not 
beheve  is  not  true.  They  cannot  condemn  too  severely 
the  lack  of  artistic  taste  and  liberal  culture  which  leads 
any  one  to  regard  sin  as  other  than  a  theologian's  phrase 
or  a  piquant  element  in  human  life,  which  otherwise 
would  be  rather  dull  and  flavorless. 

Mrs.  Arnot  was  not  a  theorist,  nor  was  she  the  elegant 
lady,  wholly  given  to  the  esthetic  culture  that  her  hus- 
band desired  ;  she  was  a  large-hearted  woman,  and  she 
understood  human  life  and  its  emergencies  sufficiently 
well  to  tremble  with  apprehension  when  she  saw  the  face 
of  Egbert  Haldane,  for  she  felt  that  a  deathless  soul  in 
its  crisis — its  deepest  spiritual  need — was  looking  to  her 
solely  for  help. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

IDEAL   KNIGHTHOOD. 

Mrs.  Arnot  again  came  directly  to  the  youth  and  put 
her  hand  on  his  shoulder  with  motherly  freedom  and 
kindliness.  Beyond  even  the  word  of  sympathy  is  the 
touch  of  sympathy,  and  it  often  conveys  to  the  fainting 
heart  a  subtle  power  to  hope  and  trust  again  which  the 
materialist  cannot  explain.  The  Divine  Physician  often 
touched  those  whom  He  healed.  He  laid  His  hand  fear- 
lessly on  the  leper  from  whom  all  shrank  with  inexpressi- 
ble dread.  The  moral  leper  who  trembled  under  Mrs. 
Arnot's  hand  felt  that  he  was  not  utterly  lost  and  beyond 
the  pale  of  hope,  if  one  so  good  and  pure  could  still 
touch  him  ;  and  there  came  a  hope,  like  a  ray  struggling 
through  thick  darkness,  that  the  hand  that  caressed  might 
rescue  him. 

"  Egbert,"  said  the  lady  gravely,  "  tell  me  what  I  can 
<Jo  for  you." 

"I  cannot  face  the  consequences,"  he  replied  in  a 
Jow,  shuddering  tone. 

"And  do  you  only  dread  the  consequences?"  Mrs. 
Arnot  asked  sadly.  "  Do  you  not  think  of  the  evil  which 
is  the  cause  of  your  trouble  ?  " 

"  I  can  scarcely  separate  the  sin  from  the  suffering. 
My  mind  is  confused,  and  I  am  overwhelmed  with  fear 
and  loneliness.  All  who  are  good  and  all  that  is  good 
seemed  to  be  slipping  from  me,  and  I  should  soon  be 
left  only  to  my  miserable  self.  O,  Mrs.  Arnot,  no  doubt 
I  seem  to  you  like  a  weak,  guilty  coward.  I  seem  so  to 
xnyself.  If  it  were  danger  or  difficulty  I  had  to  face  I 
234 


IDEAL   KNIGHTHOOD.  235 

would  not  fear  ;  but  this  slow,  inevitable,  increasing  pres- 
sure of  a  horrible  fate,  this  seeing  clearly  that  evil  cuts 
me  off  from  hope  and  all  happiness,  and  yet  to  feel  that 
I  cannot  escape  from  it — that  I  am  too  weak  to  break  my 
chains — it  is  more  than  I  can  endure.  I  fear  that  I  should 
have  gone  mad  if  you  had  not  come.  Do  you  think 
there  is  any  chance  for  me  ?  I  feel  as  if  I  had  lost  my 
manhood." 

Mrs.  Arnot  took  the  chair  which  the  sheriff  had 
brought  on  her  entrance,  and  said  quietly,  "  Perhaps 
you  have,  Egbert  ;  many  a  man  has  lost  what  you  mean- 
by  that  term." 

"  You  speak  of  it  with  a  composure  that  I  can  scarcely 
understand,"  said  Haldane,  with  a  quick  glance  of  in- 
quiry.    "  It  seems  to  me  an  irreparable  loss." 

"  It  does  not  seem  so  great  a  loss  to  me,"  replied  Mrs, 
Arnot  gently.  "As  your  physician  you  must  let  me 
speak  plainly  again.  It  seems  to  me  that  what  you  terrti 
your  manhood  was  composed  largely  of  pride,  conceit^ 
ignorance  of  yourself,  and  inexperience  of  the  worlds 
You  were  liable  to  lose  it  at  any  time,  just  as  you  did^ 
partly  through  your  own  folly  and  partly  through  the 
wrong  of  others.  You  know,  Egbert,  that  I  have  always 
been  interested  in  young  men,  and  what  many  of  then> 
regard  as  their  manhood  is  not  of  much  value  to  them- 
selves or  any  one  else." 

"  Is  it  nothing  to  be  so  weak,  disheartened,  and  de- 
based that  you  lie  prostrate  in  the  mire  of  your  own  evil 
nature,  as  it  were,  and  with  no  power  to  rise?"  he  asked 
bitterly. 

"  That  is  sad  indeed." 

"  Well,  that's  just  my  condition — or  I  fear  it  is,  though 
your  coming  has  brought  a  gleam  of  hope.  Mrs.  Arnot,'* 
he  continued  passionately,  "  I  don't  know  how  to  be  dif- 
ferent ;  I  don't  feel  capable  of  making  any  persistent  and 
successful  effort,     I  feel  that  I  have  lost  all  moral  force 


536   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  courage.  The  odds  are  too  great.  I  can't  get  up 
.again." 

"  Perhaps  you  cannot,  Egbert,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  very 
gravely  ;  "  it  would  seem  that  some  never  do — " 

He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  groaned. 

"  You  have,  indeed,  a  difficult  problem  to  solve,  and, 
looking  at  it  from  your  point  of  view,  I  do  not  wonder 
that  it  seems  impossible." 

"'  Cannot  you,  then,  give  me  any  hope  ?  " 

*' No,  Egbert;  /cannot.  It  is  not  in  my  power  to 
make  you  a  good  man.  You  know  that  I  would  do  so  if 
I  could." 

"Would  to  God  I  had  never  lived,  then!"  he  ex- 
claimed, desperately. 

"  Can  you  offer  God  no  better  prayer  than  that?  Will 
you  try  to  be  calm,  and  listen  patiently  to  me  for  a  few 
moments?  When  I  said  /could  not  give  you  hope — 1 
could  not  make  you  a  good  man — I  expressed  one  of  my 
strongest  convictions.  But  I  have  not  said,  Egbert,  that 
there  is  no  hope,  no  chance,  for  you.  On  the  contrary, 
there  is  abundant  hope — yes,  absolute  certainty— of  your 
achieving  a  noble  character,  if  you  will  set  about  it  in  the 
right  way.  But  as  one  of  the  first  and  indispensable  con- 
ditions of  success,  I  wish  you  to  realize  that  the  task  is 
too  great  for  you  alone  ;  too  great  with  my  help  ;  too 
great  if  the  world  that  seems  so  hostile  should  unite  to 
"help  you  ;  and  yet  neither  I  nor  all  the  world  could  pre- 
vent your  success  if  you  went  to  the  right  and  true 
source  of  help.  Why  have  you  forgotten  God  in  your 
emergency?  Why  are  you  looking  solely  to  yourself 
and  to  another  weak  fellow-creature  like  yourself?  " 

"You  are  in  no  respect  like  me,  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  it 
seems  profanation  even  to  suggest  the  thought." 

"  I  have  the  same  nature.  I  struggle  vainly  and  al- 
most hopelessly  against  my  peculiar  weaknesses  and 
temptations   and    sorrows    until    I    heard   God   saying, 


IDEAL  KNIGHTHOOD.  237 

'  Come,  my  child,  let  us  work  together.  It  is  my  will  you 
should  do  all  you  can  yourself,  and  what  you  cannot  do 
I  will  do  for  you.'  Since  that  time  I  have  often  had  to 
struggle  hard,  but  never  vainly.  There  have  been  sea- 
sons when  my  burdens  grew  so  heavy  that  I  was  ready  to 
faint  ;  but  after  appealing  to  my  heavenly  Father,  as  a 
little  child  might  cry  for  help,  the  crushing  weight  would 
pass  away,  and  I  became  able  to  go  on  my  way  relieved 
and  hopeful." 

"  I  cannot  understand  it,"  said  the  young  man,  look- 
ing at  her  in  deep  perplexity. 

"That  does  not  prevent  its  being  true.  The  most 
skillful  physician  cannot  explain  why  certain  beneficial 
effects  follow  the  use  of  certain  remedies  ;  but  when  these 
effects  become  an  established  fact  of  experience  it  were 
sensible  to  employ  the  remedy  as  soon  as  possible. 
One  might  suffer  a  great  deal,  and,  perhaps,  perish^ 
while  asking  questions  and  waiting  for  answers.  To  my 
mind  the  explanation  is  very  simple.  God  is  our  Crea- 
tor, and  calls  Himself  our  Father.  It  would  be  natural  on 
general  principles  that  He  should  take  a  deep  interest  in 
us  ;  but  He  assures  us  of  the  profoundest  love,  employing- 
our  tenderest  earthly  ties  to  explain  how  He  feels  toward 
us.  What  is  more  natural  than  for  a  father  to  help  a 
child?  What  is  more  certain,  also,  than  that  a  wise 
father  would  teach  a  child  to  do  all  within  his  ability  to 
help  himself,  and  so  develop  the  powers  with  which  he  is 
endowed  ?  Only  infants  are  supposed  to  be  perfectly 
helpless." 

"It  would  seem  that  what  you  say  ought  to  be  true 
and  yet  I  have  always  half-feared  God — that  is,  when  I 
thought  about  Him  at  all.  I  have  been  taught  that  He 
was  to  be  served  ;  that  He  was  a  jealous  God  ;  that  He 
was  angry  with  the  sinful,  and  that  the  prayers  of  the 
wicked  were  an  abomination.  I  am  sure  the  Bible  says 
the  latter  is  true,  or  some  thing  like  it." 


238   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

"  It  is  true.  If  you  set  your  heart  on  some  evil  course, 
or  are  deliberating  some  dishonesty  or  meanness,  be 
careful  how  you  make  long  or  short  prayers  to  God 
while  willfully  persisting  in  your  sin.  When  a  man  is 
robbing  and  cheating,  though  in  the  most  legal  manner 
— when  he  is  gratifying  lust,  hate,  or  appetite,  and  in- 
tends  to  continue  doing  so — the  less  praying  he  does  the 
better.  An  avowed  infidel  is  more  acceptable.  But  the 
sweetest  music  that  reaches  heaven  is  the  honest  cry  for 
help  to  forsake  sin  ;  and  the  more  sinful  the  heart  that 
thus  cries  out  for  deliverance  the  more  welcome  the  ap- 
peal. Let  me  illustrate  vi'hat  I  mean  by  your  own  case. 
If  you  should  go  out  from  this  prison  in  the  same  spirit 
that  you  did  once  before,  seeking  to  gain  position  and 
favor  only  for  the  purpose  of  gratifying  your  own  pride, 
— only  that  self  might  be  advantaged,  without  any  gen- 
erous and  disinterested  regard  for  others,  without  any 
recognition  of  the  sacred  duties  you  owe  to  God,  and 
content  with  a  selfish,  narrow,  impure  soul, — if,  with 
such  a  disposition,  you  should  commence  asking  for 
God's  help  as  a  means  to  these  petty,  miserable  ends, 
your  prayers  would,  and  with  good  reason,  be  an  abomi- 
nation to  Him.  But  if  you  had  sunk  to  far  lower  depths 
than  those  in  which  you  now  find  yourself,  and  should 
cry  out  for  purity,  for  the  son  ship  of  a  regenerated  char- 
acter, your  voice  would  not  only  reach  your  divine 
Father's  ear,  but  His  heart,  which  would  yearn  toward 
you  with  a  tender  commiseration  that  I  could  not  feel 
were  you  my  only  son." 

The  sincerity  and  earnestness  of  Mrs.  Arnot's  words 
were  attested  by  her  fast-gathering  tears. 

"  This  is  all  new  to  me.  But  if  God  is  so  kindly  dis- 
posed toward  us, — so  ready  to  help, — why  does  He  not 
reveal  Himself  in  this  light  more  clearly  ?  why  are  we  so 
slow  and  long  in  finding  Him  out  ?  Until  you  came  He 
seemed  against  me," 


IDEAL   KNIGHTHOOD.  239 

"We  will  not  discuss  this  matter  in  general.  Take 
your  own  experience  again.  Perhaps  it  has  been  your 
fault,  not  God's,  that  you  misunderstood  Him.  He  tries  to 
show  how  He  feels  toward  us  in  many  ways,  chiefly  by 
His  written  Word,  by  what  He  leads  His  people  to  do  for 
us,  and  by  His  great  mind  acting  directly  on  ours.  Has 
not  the  Bible  been  within  your  reach  ?  Have  none  of 
God  s  servants  tried  to  advise  and  help  you?  I  think 
you  must  have  seen  some  such  effort  on  my  part  when 
you  were  an  inmate  of  my  home.  I  am  here  this  even- 
ing as  God's  messenger  to  you.  All  the  hope  I  have  of 
you  is  inspired  by  His  disposition  and  power  to  help  you. 
You  may  continue  to  stand  aloof  from  Him,  declining  His 
aid,  just  as  you  avoided  your  motive,  and  myself  all  these 
weeks  when  we  were  longing  to  help  you  ;  but  if  you  sink, 
yours  will  be  the  fate  of  one  who  refuses  to  grasp  the 
strong  hand  that  is  and  ever  has  been  seeking  yours." 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,"  said  Haldane  thoughtfully,  "  if  all  you 
say  is  true  there  is  hope  for  me — there  is  hope  for  every 
one." 

Mrs.  Arnot  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  said, 
with  seeming  abruptness, 

"  You  have  read  of  the  ancient  knights  and  their 
deeds,  have  you  not  ?  " 

"Yes,"  was  the  wondering  reply,  "but  the  subject 
seems  very  remote." 

"You  are  in  a  position  to  realize  my  very  ideal  of 
knightly  endeavor." 

"I,  Mrs.  Arnot !     What  can  you  mean  ?  " 

"Whether  I  am  right  or  wrong  I  can  soon  explain 
what  I  mean.  The  ancient  knight  set  his  lance  in  rest 
against  what  seemed  to  him  the  wrongs  and  evils  of  the 
world.  In  theory  he  was  to  be  without  fear  and  without 
reproach — as  pure  as  the  white  cross  upon  his  mantle. 
But  in  fact  the  average  knight  was  very  human.  His 
white  cross  was  soon  soiled  by  foreign  travel,  but  too 


240   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

often  not  before  his  soul  was  stained  with  questionable 
deeds.  It  was  a  life  of  adventure  and  excitement,  and 
abundantly  gratifying  to  pride  and  ambition.  While  it 
could  be  idealized  into  a  noble  calling,  it  too  often  ended 
in  a  lawless,  capricious  career  of  seH"-indulgence.  The 
cross  on  the  mantle  symbolized  the  heavy  blows  and 
sorrows  inflicted  on  those  who  had  the  misfortune  to 
differ  in  opinion,  faith,  or  race  with  the  knight,  the  steel 
of  whose  armor  seemingly  got  into  his  heart,  rather  than 
any  personal  self-denial.  Without  any  moral  change  on 
his  own  part,  or  being  anyway  better  than  they,  he  could 
fight  the  infidel  or  those  whose  views  differed  from  his 
with  great  zest. 

"  But  the  man  who  will  engage  successfully  in  a 
crusade  against  the  evil  of  his  own  heart  must  have  the 
spirit  of  a  true  knight,  for  he  attempts  the  most  difficult 
and  heroic  task  within  the  limits  of  human  endeavor.  It 
is  comparatively  easy  to  run  a  tilt  against  a  fellow- 
mortal,  or  an  external  evil ;  but  to  set  our  lance  in  rest 
against  a  cherished  sin,  a  habit  that  has  become  our 
second  nature,  and  remorselessly  ride  it  down, — to 
grapple  with  a  secret  fault  in  the  solitude  of  our  own  souU 
with  no  applauding  hands  to  spur  us  on,  and  fight  and 
wrestle  for  weary  months, — years  perhaps, — this  does 
require  heroism  of  the  highest  order,  and  the  man  who 
can  do  it  is  my  ideal  knight. 

"You  inveigh  against  the  world,  Egbert,  as  if  it  were 
a  harsh  and  remorseless  foe,  bent  on  crushing  you  ;  but 
you  have  far  more  dangerous  enemies  lurking  in  your 
own  heart.  If  you  could  thoroughly  subdue  these  with 
God's  aid,  you  would  at  the  same  time  overcome  the 
world,  or  find  yourself  so  independent  of  it  as  scarcely  to 
care  whether  or  no  it  gave  you  its  favor.  When  you  left 
this  prison  before,  you  sought  in  the  wrong  way  to  win 
the  position  you  had  lost.  You  were  very  proud  of  your 
former  standing  ;  but  you  had  very  little  occasion  to  be» 


IDEAL   KNIGHTHOOD.  241 

for  you  had  inherited  it.  The  deeds  of  others,  not  your 
own,  had  won  it  for  you.  If  you  had  reahzed  it,  it  gave 
you  a  great  vantage,  but  that  was  all.  If  you  had  been 
content  to  have  remained  a  conceited,  commonplace 
man,  versed  only  in  the  fashionable  jargon  and  follies  of 
the  hour,  and  basing  your  claims  on  the  wealth  which  you 
had  shown  neither  the  ability  nor  industry  to  win,  you 
would  never  have  had  my  respect. 

"  Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  such  shadows  of  men  are  re- 
spected by  no  one,  not  even  themselves,  even  though  they 
may  commit  no  deed  which  society  condemns.  But  if  in 
this  prison  cell  you  set  your  face  hke  a  flint  against  the 
weaknesses  and  grave  faults  of  your  nature  which  have 
brought  you  here,  and  which  would  have  made  you  any 
thing  but  an  admirable  man  had  you  retained  your  old 
position, — if,  with  God  as  your  fast  ally,  you  wage  unre- 
lenting and  successful  war  against  all  that  is  unworthy 
of  a  Christian  manhood, — I  will  not  only  respect,  I  will 
honor  you.     You  will  be  one  of  my  ideal  knights." 

As  Mrs.  Arnot  spoke,  Haldane's  eyes  kindled,  and 
his  drooping  manner  was  exchanged  for  an  aspect  that 
indicated  reviving  hope  and  courage, 

"I  have  lost  faith  in  myself,"  he  said  slowly  ;  "and 
as  yet  I  have  no  faith  in  God  ;  but  after  what  you  have 
said  I  do  not  fear  Him  as  I  did.  I  have  faith  in  you, 
however,  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  I  would  rather  gain  your  re- 
spect than  that  of  all  the  world.  You  know  me  now 
better  than  any  one  else.  Do  you  truly  believe  that  I 
could  succeed  in  such  a  struggle  ?  " 

"  Without  faith  in  God  you  cannot.  Even  the  ancient 
knight,  whose  success  depended  so  much  on  the  skill 
and  strength  of  his  arm,  and  the  temper  of  his  weapons 
and  armor,  was  supposed  to  spend  hours  in  prayer  be- 
fore attempting  any  great  thing.  But  with  God's  help 
daily  sought  and  obtained,  you  cannot  fail.  You  can 
achieve  that  which  the  world  cannot  take  from  you, — 


242  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

which  will  be  a  priceless  possession  after  the  world  has 
forgotten  you  and  you  it, — a  noble  character." 

Haldane  was  silent  several  moments,  then,  drawing  a 
long  breath,  he  said,  slowly  and  humbly, 

"  How  I  am  to  do  this  I  do  not  yet  understand  ;  but 
if  you  will  guide  me,  I  will  attempt  it." 

"This  book  will  guide  you,  Egbert,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot, 
placing  her  Bible  in  his  hands.  "  God  Himself  will  guide 
you  if  you  ask  sincerely.  Good  night."  And  she  gave 
him  such  a  warm  and  friendly  grasp  of  the  hand  as  to 
prove  that  evil  had  not  yet  wholly  isolated  him  from  the 
pure  and  good. 


'  CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE   LOW   STARTING-POINT. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day  Mrs.  Arnot 
again  visited  Haldane,  bringing  him  several  letters  from 
his  mother  which  had  been  sent  in  her  care  ;  and  she 
urged  that  the  son  should  write  at  once  in  a  way  that 
would  reassure  the  mother's  heart. 

In  his  better  mood  the  young  man's  thoughts  recurred  to 
his  mother  with  a  remorseful  tenderness,  and  he  eagerly 
sought  out  the  envelope  bearing  the  latest  date,  and  tore 
it  open.  As  he  read,  the  pallor  and  pain  expressed  in  his 
face  became  so  great  that  Mrs,  Arnot  was  much  troubled, 
fearing  that  the  letter  contained  evil  tidings. 

Without  a  word  he  handed  it  to  her,  and  also  two  in- 
closed paragraphs  cut  from  newspapers. 

"  Do  you  think  your  mother  would  wish  me  to  see  it?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Arnot,  hesitatingly. 

"  I  wish  you  to  see  it,  and  it  contains  no  injunctions  of 
secrecy.  Indeed,  she  has  been  taking  some  very  open 
and  decided  steps  which  are  here  indicated." 

Mrs.  Arnot  read  : 

My  Unnatural  Son  : — Though  you  will  not  write  me  a 
line,  you  still  make  it  certain  that  I  shall  hear  from  you,  as  the 
inclosed  clippings  from  Hillaton  papers  may  prove  to  you.  You 
have  forfeited  all  claim  on  both  your  sisters  and  myself.  Our 
lawyer  has  been  here  to-day,  and  has  shown  me,  what  is  only 
too  evident,  that  money  would  be  a  curse  to  you — that  you 
would  squander  it  and  disgrace  yourself  still  more,  if  such  a 
thing  were  possible.  As  the  property  is  wholly  in  my  hands,  I 
shall  arrange  it  in  such  a  way  that  you  shall  never  have  a 
chance  to  waste  it.  If  you  will  comply  with  the  following  con- 
243 


244   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

ditions  I  will  supply  all  that  is  essential  to  one  of  your  nature 
and  tastes.  I  stipulate  that  you  leave  Hillaton,  and  go  to  some 
quiet  place  where  our  name  is  not  known,  and  that  you  there 
live  so  quietly  that  I  shall  hear  of  no  more  disgraceful  acts  like 
those  herein  described.  I  have  given  up  the  hope  of  hearing 
any  thing  good.  If  you  will  do  this  I  will  pay  your  board  ar.d 
grant  you  a  reasonable  allowance.  If  you  will  not  do  this,  you 
end  all  communication  between  us,  and  we  must  be  as  strangers 
until  you  can  show  an  entirely  different  spirit. 

Yours  in  bitter  shame  and  sorrow, 

Emily  Haldane. 

The  clippings  were  Mr,  Shrumpf  s  version  of  his  own 
swindle,  and  a  tolerably  correct  account  of  the  events 
which  led  to  the  present  imprisonment. 

"Will  you  accept  your  mother's  offer?"  Mrs.  Arnot 
asked,  anxiously,  for  she  was  much  troubled  as  to  what 
might  be  the  effect  of  the  unfortunate  letter  at  this  junc- 
ture. 

"  No  !  "  he  replied  with  sharp  emphasis. 

"  Egbert,  remember  you  have  given  your  mother  the 
gravest  provocation." 

"  I  also  remember  that  she  did  her  best  to  m.ake  me 
the  fool  I  have  been,  and  she  might  have  a  little  more 
patience  now.  The  truth  is  that  mother's  God  was  re- 
spectability, and  she  will  never  forgive  me  for  destroying 
her  idol." 

"  Read  the  other  letters  ;  there  may  be  that  in  them 
which  will  be  more  reassuring." 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  he  replied,  bitterly  ;  "  I  have  had 
all  that  I  can  stand  for  one  day.  She  believes  the  in- 
fernal lie  which  that  scoundrel  Shrumpf  tells,  and  gives 
me  no  hearing  ; "  and  he  related  to  Mrs.  Arnot  the  true 
version  of  the  affair. 

She  had  the  tact  to  see  that  his  present  perturbed  con- 
dition was  not  her  opportunity,  and  she  soon  after  left  him 
in  a  mood  that  promised  little  of  good  for  the  future. 

But  in  the  long,  quiet  hours  that  followed  her  depar- 


THE  LOW  STARTING-POINT.  245 

♦.ure  his  thoughts  were  busy.  However  much  he  might 
think  that  others  were  the  cause  of  his  unhappy  phght, 
he  had  seen  that  he  was  far  more  to  blame.  It  had 
been  made  still  more  clear  that,  even  if  he  could  shift 
this  blame  somewhat,  he  could  not  the  consequences. 
Mrs.  Arnot's  words  had  given  him  a  glimpse  of  light, 
and  had  revealed  a  path,  which,  though  still  vague  and 
uncertain,  promised  to  lead  out  of  the  present  labyrinth 
of  evil.  During  the  morning  hours  he  had  dared  to  hope, 
and  even  to  pray,  that  he  might  find  a  way  of  escape 
from  his  miserable  self  and  the  wretched  condition  to 
which  it  had  brought  him. 

For  a  long  time  he  turned  the  leaves  of  Mrs.  Arnot's 
Bible,  and  here  and  there  a  text  would  flash  out  like  a 
light  upon  the  clouded  future,  but  as  a  general  thing  the 
words  had  httle  meaning. 

To  his  ardent  and  somewhat  imaginative  nature  she 
had  presented  the  struggle  toward  a  better  life  in  the  most 
attractive  hght.  He  was  not  asked  to  do  something  which 
was  vague  and  mystical ;  he  was  not  exhorted  to  emotions 
and  beliefs  of  which  he  was  then  incapable,  nor  to  forms 
and  ceremonies  that  were  meaningless  to  him,  nor  to  pro- 
fessions equally  hollow.  On  the  contrary,  the  evils,  the 
defects  of  his  own  nature,  were  given  an  objective  form, 
and  he  could  almost  see  himself,  like  a  knight,  with  lance 
in  rest,  preparing  to  run  a  tilt  against  the  personal  faults 
which  had  done  him  such  injury.  The  deeper  philos- 
ophy, that  his  heart  was  the  rank  soil  from  which  sprang 
these  faults,  like  Cadmus'  armed  men,  would  come  with 
fuller  experience. 

But  in  a  measure  he  had  understood  and  had  been  in- 
spired by  Mrs.  Arnot's  thought.  Although  from  a  weak 
mother's  indulgence  and  his  own,  from  wasted  years  and 
bad  companionships,  his  life  was  well-nigh  spoiled,  he 
still  had  sufficient  mind  to  see  that  to  fight  down  the 
clamorous  passions  of  his  heart  into  subjection  would  be 


246    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

a  grand  and  heroic  thing.  If  from  the  yielding  mire  of 
his  present  self  a  noble  and  granite -like  character  could 
be  built  up,  so  strongly  and  on  such  a  sure  foundation 
that  it  would  stand  the  shocks  of  time  and  eternity,  it 
were  worth  every  effort  of  which  human  nature  is  capable. 
Until  Mrs.  Arnot  had  spoken  her  wise  and  kind,  yet  hon- 
est words,  he  had  felt  himself  unable  to  stand  erect,  much 
less  to  enter  on  a  struggle  which  would  tax  the  strongest. 

But  suppose  God  would  deign  to  help,  suppose  it  was 
the  divine  purpose  and  practice  to  supplement  the  feeble 
efforts  of  those  who,  like  himself,  sought  to  ally  their 
weakness  to  his  strength,  might  not  the  Creator  and  the 
creature,  the  Father  and  the  child,  unitedly  achieve 
what  it  were  hopeless  to  attempt  unaided  ? 

Thoughts  hke  these  more  or  less  distinctly  had  been 
thronging  his  mind  during  the  morning,  and  though  the 
path  out  of  his  degradation  was  obscure  and  uncertain,  it 
had  seemed  the  only  way  of  escape.  He  knew  that  Mrs. 
Arnot  would  not  consciously  mock  him  with  delusive 
hopes,  and  as  she  spoke  her  words  seemed  to  have  the 
ring  and  echo  of  truth.  When  the  courage  to  attempt 
better  things  was  reviving,  it  was  sad  that  he  should  re- 
ceive the  first  disheartening  blow  from  his  mother.  Not 
that  she  purposed  any  such  cruel  stroke  ;  but  when  one 
commences  wrong  in  life  one  is  apt  to  go  on  making  mis- 
chief to  the  end.  Poor  Mrs.  Haldane's  kindness  and 
severity  had  always  been  ill-timed. 

For  some  hours,  as  will  be  seen,  the  contents  of  the 
mother's  \etter  inspired  only  resentment  and  caused  dis- 
couragement ;  but  calmer  thoughts  explained  the  letter, 
and  confirmed  Mrs.  Arnot's  words,  that  he  had  given 
the  "greatest  provocation." 

At  the  same  time  the  young  man  instinctively  felt  that 
if  he  attempted  the  knightly  effort  that  Mrs.  Arnot  had  so 
earnestly  urged,  his  mother  could  not  help  him  much^ 
and  might  be  a  hindrance.     Her  views  would  be  so  con- 


THE  LOW  STARTING-POINT.  247 

ventional,  and  she  would  be  so  impatient  of  any  methods 
that  were  not  in  accordance  with  her  ideas  of  respecta- 
bihty,  that  she  might  imperil  every  thing  should  he  yield 
to  her  guidance.  If,  therefore,  he  could  obtain  the  means 
of  subsistence  he  resolved  to  remain  in  Hillaton,  where 
he  could  occasionally  see  Mrs,  Arnot.  She  had  been 
able  to  inspire  the  hope  of  a  better  life,  and  she  could 
best  teach  him  how  such  a  life  was  possible. 

The  next  day  circumstances  prevented  Mrs,  Arnot 
frorm  visiting  the  prison,  and  Haldane  employed  part  of 
the  time  in  writing  to  his  mother  ^  letter  of  mingled  re- 
proaches and  apologies,  interspersed  with  vague  hopes 
and  promises  of  future  amendment,  ending,  however, 
with  the  posidve  assurance  that  he  would  not  leave 
Hillaton  unless  compelled  to  do  so  by  hunger. 

To  Mrs,  Haldane  this  letter  was  only  an  aggravation 
of  former  misconduct,  and  a  proof  of  the  unnatural  and 
impracticable  character  of  her  son.  The  fact  that  it  was 
written  from  a  prison  was  hideous,  to  begin  with.  That,, 
after  all  the  pains  at  which  she  had  been  to  teach  him 
what  was  right,  he  could  suggest  that  she  was  in  part  to 
blame  for  his  course,  seemed  such  black  ingradtude  that 
his  apologies  and  acknowledgments  of  wrong  went  for 
nothing.  She  quite  overlooked  the  hope,  expressed  here 
and  there,  that  he  might  lead  a  very  different  life  in  the 
future.  His  large  and  self-confident  assurances  made  be- 
fore had  come  to  naught,  and  she  had  not  the  tact  to  see 
that  he  would  make  this  attempt  in  a  different  spirit. 

It  was  not  by  any  means  a  knightly,  or  even  a  manly 
letter  that  he  wrote  to  his  mother  ;  it  was  as  confused  as 
his  own  chaotic  moral  nature  ;  but  if  Mrs.  Haldane  had 
had  a  little  more  of  Mrs,  Arnot's  intuition,  and  less  of 
prejudice,  she  might  have  seen  scattered  through  it  very 
hopeful  indications.  But  even  were  such  indications 
much  more  plain,  her  anger,  caused  by  his  refusal  to 
leave  Hillaton,  and  the  belief  that  he  would  continue  to 


248   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

disgrace  himself  and  her,  would  have  blinded  her  to 
them.  Under  the  influence  of  this  anger  she  sat  down 
and  wrote  at  once  : 

Since  you  cast  off  your  mother  for  strangers — since  you  at- 
tempt again  what  you  have  proved  yourself  incapable  of  ac- 
complishing— since  you  prefer  to  go  out  of  jail  to  be  a  vagrant 
and  a  criminal  in  the  streets,  instead  of  accepting  my  offer  to 
live  a  respectable  and  secluded  life  where  your  shame  is  un- 
known, I  wash  my  hands  of  you,  and  shall  take  pains  to  let  it 
be  understood  that  I  am  no  longer  responsible  for  you  or  your 
actions.  You  must  look  to  strangers  solely  until  you  can  conform 
your  course  to  the  will  of  the  one  you  have  so  greatly  wronged. 

Haldane  received  this  letter  on  the  morning  of  the  day 
which  would  again  give  him  freedom.  Mrs.  Arnot  had 
visited  him  from  time  to  time,  and  had  been  pleased  to 
find  him,  as  a  general  thing,  in  a  better  and  more  promis- 
ing mood.  He  had  been  eager  to  listen  to  all  that  she 
had  to  say,  and  he  seemed  honestly  bent  on  reform.  And 
yet,  while  hopeful,  she  was  not  at  all  sanguine  as  to  his 
future.  He  occasionally  gave  way  to  fits  of  deep  de- 
spondency, and  again  was  over-confident,  while  the 
causes  of  these  changes  were  not  very  apparent,  and 
seemingly  resulted  more  from  temperament  than  any 
thing  else.  She  feared  that  the  bad  habits  of  long  stand- 
ing, combining  with  his  capricious  and  impulsive  nature, 
would  speedily  betray  him  into  his  old  ways.  She  was 
sure  this  would  be  the  case  unless  the  strong  and  steady 
hand  of  God  sustained  him,  and  she  had  tried  to  make 
him  realize  the  same  truth.  This  he  did  in  a  measure,  and 
was  exceedingly  distrustful  ;  and  yet  he  had  not  been  able 
to  do  much  more  than  hope  God  would  help  him — for  to 
any  thing  hke  trustful  confidence  he  was  still  a  stranger. 

The  future  was  very  dark  and  uncertain.  What  he 
was  to  do,  how  he  was  to  live,  he  could  not  foresee. 
Even  the  prison  seemed  almost  a  refuge  from  the  world, 
out  into  which  he  would  be  thrown  that  day,  as  one 


THE  LOW  STARTING-POINT.  249 

mi^ht  be  cast  from  a  ship,  to  sink  or  swim,  as  the  case 
might  be. 

While  eager  to  receive  counsel  and  advice  from  Mrs. 
Arnot,  he  felt  a  peculiar  reluctance  to  take  any  pecuniary- 
assistance,  and  he  fairly  dreaded  to  have  her  offer  it ; 
still,  it  might  be  all  that  would  stand  between  him  and 
hunger. 

After  receiving  his  mother's  harsh  reply  to  his  letter, 
his  despondency  was  too  great  even  for  anger.  He  was 
ashamed  of  his  weakness  and  discouragement,  and  felt 
that  they  were  unmanly,  and  yet  was  powerless  to  resist 
the  leaden  depression  that  weighed  him  down. 

Mrs.  Arnot  had  promised  to  call  just  before  his  release, 
and  when  she  entered  his  cell  she  at  once  saw  that  some- 
thing was  amiss.  In  reply  to  her  questioning  he  gave 
her  the  letter  just  received. 

After  reading  it  Mrs.  Arnot  did  not  speak  for  some 
time,  and  her  face  wore  a  sad,  pained  look. 

At  last  she  said,  "  You  both  misunderstand  each  other  ; 
but,  Egbert,  you  have  no  right  to  cherish  resentment. 
Your  mother  sincerely  believes  your  course  is  all  wrong, 
and  that  it  will  end  worse  than  before.  I  think  she  is 
mistaken.  And  yet  perhaps  she  is  right,  and  it  will  be 
easier  for  you  to  commence  your  better  and  reformed  life 
in  the  seclusion  which  she  suggests.  I  am  sorry  to  say 
it  to  you,  Egbert,  but  I  have  not  been  able  to  find  any 
employment  for  you  such  as  you  would  take,  or  I  would 
be  willing  to  have  you  accept.  Perhaps  Providence 
points  to  submission  to  your  mother's  will." 

"  If  so,  then  I  lose  what  little  faith  I  have  in  Provi- 
dence," he  replied  impetuously.  "  It  is  here,  in  this 
city,  that  I  have  fallen  and  disgraced  myself,  and  it  is 
here  I  ought  to  redeem  myself,  if  I  ever  do.  Weeks 
ago,  in  pride  and  self-confidence,  I  made  the  effort,  and 
failed  miserably,  as  might  have  been  expected.  Instead 
of  being  a  gifted  and  brilliant  man,  as  I  supposed,  that 


•250   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

had  been  suddenly  brought  under  a  cloud  as  much 
through  misfortune  as  fault,  I  have  discovered  myself  to 
be  a  weak,  commonplace,  illiterate  fellow,  strong  only  in 
bad  passions  and  bad  habits.  Can  I  escape  these  pas- 
sions and  habits  by  going  elsewhere  ?  You  have  told 
me,  in  a  way  that  excited  my  hope,  of  God's  power  and 
willingness  to  help  such  as  I  am.  If  He  will  not  help  me 
here.  He  will  not  anywhere  ;  and  if,  with  His  aid,  I  cannot 
surmount  the  obstacles  in  my  way  here,  what  is  God's 
promised  help  but  a  phrase  which  means  nothing,  and 
what  are  we  but  victims  of  circumstances  ?  " 

"  Are  you  not  reaching  conclusions  rather  fast,  Eg- 
bert ?  You  forget  that  I  and  myriads  of  others  have  had 
proof  of  God's  power  and  willingness  to  help.  If  wide 
and  varied  experiences  can  settle  any  fact,  this  one  has 
been  settled.  But  we  should  ever  remember  that  we  are 
not  to  dictate  the  terms  on  which  He  is  to  help  us." 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  do  this,"  said  Haldane  eagerly, 
"but  I  have  a  conviction  that  I  ought  to  remain  in 
Hillaton.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Mrs.  Arnot,  I  am  afraid 
to  go  elsewhere,"  he  added  in  a  low  tone,  while  tears 
suffused  his  eyes.  "  You  are  the  only  friend  in  the  uni- 
verse that  I  am  sure  cares  for  me,  or  that  I  can  trust 
without  misgivings.  To  me  God  is  yet  but  little  more 
than  a  name,  and  one  that  heretofore  I  have  either  for- 
gotten or  feared.  You  have  led  me  to  hope  that  it  might 
be  otherwise  some  day,  but  it  is  not  so  yet,  and  I  dare 
not  go  away  alone  where  no  one  cares  for  me,  for  I  feel 
sure  that  I  would  give  way  to  utter  despondency,  and 
recklessness  would  follow  as  a  matter  of  course." 

"  O  Egbert,"  sighed  Mrs.  Arnot,  "  how  weak  you  are, 
and  how  foolish,  in  trusting  so  greatly  in  a  mere  fellow- 
creature." 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Arnot,  'weak  and  foolish.'  Those  two 
•words  now  seem  to  sum  up  my  whole  life  and  all  there  is 
of  me." 


THE  LOW  STARTING-POINT.  251 

"  And  yet,"  she  added  earnestly,  "  if  you  will,  you  can 
still  achieve  a  strong  and  noble  character.  O  that  you 
had  the  courage  and  heroic  faith  in  God  to  fight  out  this 
battle  to  the  end  !  Should  you  do  so,  as  I  told  you  be- 
fore, you  would  be  my  ideal  knight.  Heaven  would  ring 
with  your  praise,  however  unfriendly  the  world  might  be. 
I  cannot  conceive  of  a  grander  victory  than  that  of  a  de- 
based nature  over  itself.  If  you  should  win  such  a  vic- 
tory, Egbert — if,  in  addition,  you  were  able,  by  the  bless- 
ing of  God  on  your  efforts,  to  build  up  a  strong,  true 
character — I  would  honor  you  above  other  men,  even 
though  you  remained  a  wood-sawyer  all  your  days,"  and 
her  dark  eyes  became  lustrous  with  deep  feeling  as  she 
spoke. 

Haldane  looked  at  her  fixedly  for  a  moment,  and  grew 
very  pale.     He  then  spoke  slowly  and  in  a  low^  tone  : 

"  To  fail  after  what  you  have  said  and  after  all  your 
kindness  would  be  terrible.  To  continue  my  old  vile  self, 
and  also  remember  the  prospect  you  now  hold  out — what 
could  be  worse  ?  And  yet  what  I  shall  do,  what  I  shall 
be,  God  only  knows.  But  in  sending  you  to  me  I  feel 
that  He  has  given  me  one  more  chance." 

"Egbert,"  she  replied  eagerly,  "  God  will  give  you 
chances  as  long  as  you  breathe.  Only  the  devil  will  tell 
you  to  despair.  He,  fiever.  Remember  this  should  yon 
grow  old  in  sin.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  however,  as  I  see 
you  going  out  into  the  world  so  humbled,  so  self-distrust- 
ful, I  have  far  more  hope  for  you  than  when  you  first  left 
this  place,  fully  assured  that  you  were,  in  yourself,  suffi- 
cient for  all  your  peculiar  difficulties.  And  now,  once 
more,  good-by,  for  a  time.  I  will  do  every  thing  I  can 
for  you.  I  have  seen  Mr.  Growther  to-day,  and  he  ap- 
pears very  willing  that  you  should  return  to  his  house  for 
the  present.  Strange  old  man  !  I  want  to  know  him 
better,  for  I  believe  his  evil  is  chiefly  on  the  outside,  and 
will  fall  off  some  day,  to  his  great  surprise." 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

A    SACRED   REFRIGERATOR. 

The  glare  of  the  streets  was  intolerable  to  Haldane 
after  his  confinement,  and  he  hastened  through  them, 
looking  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left.  A 
growl  from  Mr.  Growther's  dog  greeted  him  as  he  en- 
tered, and  the  old  man  himself  snarled, 

"  Well,  I  s'pose  you  stood  me  as  long  as  you  could, 
and  then  went  to  prison  for  a  while  for  a  change." 

"You  are  mistaken,  Mr.  Growther  ;  I  went  to  prison 
because  I  deserved  to  go  there,  and  it's  very  good  oi  you 
to  let  me  come  back  again." 

"  No,  it  ain't  good  of  me,  nuther.  I  want  a  little  peace 
and  comfort,  and  how  could  I  have  'em  while  you  was 
bein'  kicked  and  cuffed  around  the  streets  ?  Here,  I'll 
get  you  some  dinner.  I  s'pose  they  only  gave  you 
enough  at  jail  to  aggravate  your  in'ards." 

"No,  nothing  more,  please.  Isn't  there  something  I 
can  do?     I've  sat  still  long  enough." 

Mr.  Growther  looked  at  him  a  moment,  and  then  said, 

"Are  you  sayin'  that  because  you  mean  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Would  you  mind  helpin'  me  make  a  little  garden  ? 
I  know  I  ought  to  have  done  it  long  ago,  but  I'm  one  of 
those  'crastinating  cusses,  and  rheumatic  in  the  bargain." 

"  I'll  make  your  garden  on  the  one  condition  that  you 
stand  by  and  boss  the  job." 

"  O,  I'm  good  at  bossin' ,  if  nothing  else.  There  ain't 
much  use  of  plantin'  any  thing,  though,  for  every  pesky 
bug  and  worm  in  town  will  start  for  my  patch  as  soon  as 
they  hear  on't." 

252 


A   SACRED  EEFRIGERATOB.  253 

"  I  suppose  they  come  on  the  same  principle  that  I  do." 

"  They  hain't  so  welcome — the  cussed  little  varmints! 
Some  on  'em  are  so  blasted  mean  that  I  know  I  ought  to 
be  easier  on  'em  just  out  of  feller  feelin'.  Them  cut- 
worms now — if  they'd  only  take  a  plant  and  satisfy  their 
nateral  appetites  on  it,  it  would  go  a  good  ways,  and  the 
rest  o'  the  plants  would  have  a  chance  to  grow  out  of 
harm's  way  ;  but  the  nasty  little  things  will  jest  eat  'em 
off  above  the  ground,  as  if  they  was  cut  in  two  by  a 
knife,  and  then  go  on  to  anuther.  That's  what  I  call  a 
mean  way  of  gettin'  a  livin'  ;  but  there's  lots  of  people 
like  'em  in  town,  who  spile  more  than  they  eat.  Then 
there's  the  squash-bug.  If  it's  his  nater  to  eat  up  the  vines 
I  s'pose  he  must  do  it,  but  why  in  thunder  must  he  smell 
bad  enough  to  knock  you  over  into  the  bargain  ?  It's 
allers  been  my  private  opinion  that  the  devil  made  these 
pests,  and  the  Lord  had  nothin'  to  do  with  'em.  The 
idea  that  He  should  create  a  rose,  and  then  a  rose-bug  to 
spile  it,  ain't  reconcilable  to  what  little  reason  I've  got." 

"  Well,"  rephed  Haldane  with  a  glimmer  of  a  smile, 
"  I  cannot  account  for  rose-bugs  and  a  good  many  worse 
things.  I  notice,  however,  that  in  spite  of  all  these  ene- 
mies people  manage  to  raise  a  great  deal  that's  very 
nice  every  year.     Suppose  we  try  it." 

They  were  soon  at  work,  and  Haldane  felt  the  better 
for  a  few  hours'  exercise  in  the  open  air. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Arnot  brought  some  papers 
which  she  said  a  legal  friend  wished  copied,  and  she  left 
with  them,  inclosed  in  an  envelope,  payment  in  advance. 
After  she  had  gone  Haldane  offered  the  money  to  Mr. 
Growther,  but  the  old  man  only  growled, 

"  Chuck  it  in  a  drawer,  and  the  one  of  us  who  wants 
it  first  can  have  it." 

For  the  next  two  or  three  weeks  Mrs.  Arnot,  by  the 
dint  of  considerable  effort,  kept  up  a  supply  of  MSS.,  of 
which  copies  were  required,  and  she  supplemented  the 


254   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

prices  which  the  parties  concerned  were  willing  to  pay. 
Her  charitable  and  helpful  habits  were  well  known  to  her 
friends,  and  they  often  enabled  her  thus  to  aid  those  to 
whom  she  could  not  give  money  direct.  But  this  uncer- 
tain employment  would  soon  fail,  and  what  her  protege 
was  then  to  do  she  could  not  foresee.  No  one  would 
trust  him,  and  no  one  cared  to  have  him  about  his 
premises. 

But  in  the  meantime  the  young  man  was  thinking 
deeply  for  himself.  He  soon  concluded  not  to  make  Mr. 
Growther's  hu-mble  cottage  a  hiding-place  ;  and  he  com- 
menced walking  abroad  through  the  city  after  the  work 
of  the  day.  He  assumed  no  bravado,  but  went  quietly 
on  his  way  like  any  other  passer-by.  The  majority  of 
those  who  knew  who  he  was  either  ignored  his  existence, 
or  else  looked  curiously  after  him,  but  some  took  pains 
to  manifest  their  contempt.  He  could  not  have  been 
more  lonely  and  isolated  if  he  were  walking  a  desert. 

Among  the  promises  he  had  made  Mrs.  Arnot  was 
that  he  would  attend  church,  and  she  naturally  asked 
him  to  come  to  her  own. 

"  As  you  feel  toward  my  husband,  it  will  probably  not 
be  pleasant  for  you  to  come  to  our  pew,"  she  had  said  ; 
"  but  I  hope  the  time  will  come  when  by-gones  will  be 
by-gones.  The  sexton,  however,  will  give  you  a  seat, 
and  our  minister  preaches  excellent  sermons." 

Not  long  after,  true  to  his  word,  the  young  man  went 
a  little  early,  as  he  wished  to  be  as  unobtrusive  as  possi- 
ble. At  the  same  time  there  was  nothing  furtive  or 
■cringing  in  his  nature.  As  he  had  openly  done  wrong, 
he  was  now  resolved  to  try  as  openly  to  do  right,  and  let 
people  ascribe  whatever  motive  they  chose. 

But  his  heart  misgave  him  as  he  approached  the  new 
elegant  church  on  the  most  fashionable  street.  He  felt 
that  his  clothes  were  not  in  keeping  with  either  the  place 
of  worship  or  the  worshipers. 


A   SACRED  REFRIGERATOR.  255 

Mr.  Arnot's  confidential  clerk  was  talking  with  the 
sexton  as  he  hesitatingly  mounted  the  granite  steps,  and 
he  saw  that  dignified  functionary,  who  seemed  in  some 
way  made  to  order  with  the  church  over  which  he  pre- 
sided, eye  him  askance  while  he  lent  an  ear  to  what 
was  evidently  a  bit  of  his  history.  Walking  quietly  but 
firmly  up  to  the  of^cial,  Haldane  asked, 

"  Will  you  give  me  a  seat,  sir?" 

The  man  reddened,  frowned,  and  then  said, 

"  Really,  sir,  our  seats  are  generally  taken  Sunday 
mornings.  I  think  you  will  feel  more  at  home  at  our 
■mission  chapel  in  Guy  street." 

"And  among  the  guys,  why  don't  you  add?  "  retorted 
Haldane,  his  old  spirit  flashing  up,  and  he  turned  on  his 
heel  and  stalked  back  to  Mr.  Growther's  cottage. 

"  Short  sermon  to-day,"  said  the  old  man  starting  out 
of  a  doze. 

Haldane  told  him  of  his  reception. 

The  wrinkles  in  the  quaint  visage  of  his  host  grew  deep 
-and  complicated,  as  though  he  had  tasted  something 
very  bitter,  and  he  remarked  sententiously, 

"  If  Satan  could  he'd  pay  that  sexton  a  whoppin'  sum 
to  stand  at  the  door  and  keep  sinners  out." 

"  No  need  of  the  devil  paying  him  any  thing  ;  the 
well-dressed  Christians  see  to  that.  As  I  promised  Mrs. 
Arnot  to  come,  I  tried  to  keep  my  word,  but  this  flunky's 
face  and  manner  alone  are  enough  to  turn  away  such  as 
I  am.  None  but  the  eminently  respectable  need  apply 
at  that  gate  of  heaven.  If  it  were  not  for  Mrs.  Arnot  I 
would  believe  the  whole  thing  a  farce." 

"Is  Jesus  Christ  a  farce?"  asked  the  practical  Mr. 
Growther,  testily.  "  What  is  the  use  of  jumping  five  hun- 
dred miles  from  the  truth  because  you've  happened  to 
run  afoul  of  some  of  those  Pharisees  that  He  cussed  ?  " 

Haldane  laughed  and  said,  "You  have  a  matter-of- 
fact  way  of  putting  things  that  there  is  no  escaping.     It 


256   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

will,  probably,  do  me  more  good  to  stay  home  and  read 
the  Bible  to  you  than  to  be  at  church." 

The  confidential  clerk,  who  had  remained  gossiping  in 
the  vestibule,  thought  the  scene  he  had  witnessed  worth 
mentioning  to  his  employer,  who  entered  with  Mrs.  Arnot 
not  very  long  after,  and  lingered  for  a  word  or  two.  The 
man  of  business  smiled  grimly,  and  passed  on.  He  usu- 
ally attended  church  once  a  day,  partly  from  habit  and 
partly  because  it  was  the  respectable  thing  to  do.  He 
had  been  known  to  remark  that  he  never  lost  any  thing  by 
it,  for  some  of  his  most  successful  moves  suggested  them- 
selves to  his  mind  during  the  monotony  of  the  service. 

To  annoy  his  wife,  and  also  to  gratify  a  disposition  to 
sneer  at  the  faults  of  Christians,  Mr.  Arnot,  at  the  dinner, 
commenced  to  commend  ironically  the  sexton's  course. 

"  A  most  judicious  man  !  "  he  affirmed.  "  Saint  Peter 
himself  at  the  gate  could  not  more  accurately  strain  out 
the  saints  from  the  sinners — nay,  he  is  even  keener-eyed 
than  Saint  Peter,  for  he  can  tell  first-class  from  second- 
class  saints.  Though  our  church  is  not  full,  I  now  un- 
derstand why  we  have  a  mission  chapel.  You  may  trust 
•Jeems'  to  keep  out  all  but  the  very  first-class — those 
who  can  exchange  silk  and  broadcloth  for  the  white  robe. 
But  what  on  earth  could  have  brought  about  such  a  speedy 
transition  from  jail  to  church  on  the  part  of  Haldane?  " 

"I  invited  him,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  in  a  pained  tone; 
"  but  I  did  not  think  it  would  be  to  meet  with  insult." 

"  Insult!  Quite  the  reverse.  I  should  think  that  such 
as  he  ought  to  feel  it  an  honor  to  be  permitted  a  place 
among  the  second-class  saints." 

Mrs.  Arnot's  thoughts  were  very  busy  that  afternoon. 
She  was  not  by  nature  an  innovator,  and,  indeed,  w-as 
inclined  to  accept  the  established  order  of  things  without 
very  close  questioning.  Her  Christian  life  had  been  de- 
veloped chiefly  by  circumstances  purely  personal,  and 
she  had  unconsciously  found  walks  of  usefulness  apart 


A   SACRED  REFRIGERATOR.  257 

from  the  organized  church  work.  But  she  was  a  devout 
worshiper  and  a  careful  hstener  to  the  truth.  It  had  been 
her  custom  to  ride  to  the  morning  service,  and,  as  they 
resided  some  distance  from  the  church,  to  remain  at 
home  in  the  evening,  giving  all  in  her  employ  a  chance 
to  go  out. 

Concerning  the  financial  affairs  of  the  church  she  was 
kept  well  informed,  for  she  was  a  liberal  contributor,  and 
also  to  all  other  good  causes  presented.  From  earliest 
years  her  eye  had  always  been  accustomed  to  the  phases 
presented  by  a  fashionable  church,  and  every  thing  moved 
forward  so  quietly  and  with  such  sacred  decorum  that  the 
thought  of  any  thing  wrong  did  not  occur  to  her. 

But  the  truth  that  one  who  was  endeavoring  to  lead  a 
better  Hfe  had  been  practically  turned  from  the  door  of 
God's  house  seemed  to  her  a  monstrous  thing.  How 
much  truth  was  there  in  her  husband's  sarcasm  ?  How 
far  did  her  church  represent  the  accessible  Jesus  of  Naza- 
reth, to  whom  all  were  welcomed,  or  how  far  did  it  mis- 
represent Him  ?  Now  that  her  attention  was  called  to  the 
fact,  she  remembered  that  the  congregation  was  chiefly 
made  up  of  the  e'/ite  of  the  city,  and  that  she  rarely  had 
seen  any  one  present  who  did  not  clearly  present  the 
fullest  evidence  of  respectability.  Were  those  whom  the 
Master  most  emphatically  came  to  seek  and  save  ex- 
cluded?    She  determined  to  find  out  speedily. 

Summoning  her  coachman,  she  told  him  that  she 
wished  to  attend  church  that  evening.  She  dressed  her- 
self very  plainly,  and  entered  the  church  closely  vailed. 
Instead  of  going  to  her  own  pew,  she  asked  the  judicious 
and  discriminating  sexton  for  a  seat.  After  a  careless 
glance  he  pointed  to  one  of  the  seats  near  the  door,  and 
turned  his  back  upon  her.  A  richly  dressed  lady  and 
gentleman  entered  soon  after,  and  he  was  all  attention, 
marshaling  them  up  the  aisle  into  Mrs.  Arnot's  own  pew, 
since  it'was  known  she  did  not  occupy  it  in  the  evening. 


258   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

A  few  decent,  plain-looking  women,  evidently  sent  thither 
by  the  wealthy  families  in  whose  employ  they  were,  came 
in  hesitatingly,  and  those  who  did  not  take  seats  near  the 
entrance,  as  a  matter  of  course,  were  motioned  thither 
without  ceremony.  The  audience  room  was  but  sparsely 
filled,  large  families  being  represented  by  one  or  two 
members  or  not  at  all.  But  Mrs.  Arnot  saw  none  of 
Haldane's  class  present — none  who  looked  as  if  they 
were  in  danger,  and  needed  a  kind,  strong,  rescuing 
hand — none  who  looked  hungry  and  athirst  for  truth  be- 
cause perishing  for  its  lack.  In  that  elegant  and  emi- 
nently respectable  place,  upholstered  and  decorated  with 
faultless  taste,  there  was  not  a  hint  of  publicans  and  sin- 
ners. One  might  suppose  he  was  in  the  midst  of  the 
millennium,  and  that  the  classes  to  whom  Christ  preached 
had  all  become  so  thoroughly  converted  that  they  did  not 
even  need  to  attend  church.  There  was  not  a  suggestion 
of  the  fact  that  but  a  few  blocks  away  enough  to  fill  the 
empty  pews  were  living  worse  than  heathen  hves. 

The  choir  performed  their  part  melodiously,  and  a 
master  in  music  could  have  found  no  fault  with  the  tech- 
nical rendering  of  the  musical  score.  They  were  paid  io 
sing,  and  they  gave  to  such  of  their  employers  as  cared 
to  be  present  every  note  as  it  was  written,  in  its  full 
value.  As  never  before,  it  struck  Mrs.  Arnot  as  a  per- 
formance. The  service  she  had  attended  hitherto  was 
partly  the  creation  of  her  own  earnest  and  devotional 
spirit.  To-night  she  was  learning  to  know  the  service  as 
it  really  existed. 

The  minister  was  evidently  a  conscientious  man,  for  he 
had  prepared  his  evening  discourse  for  his  thin  audience 
as  thoroughly  as  he  had  his  morning  sermon.  Every 
word  was  carefully  written  down,  and  the  thought  of  the 
text  was  exhaustively  developed.  But  Mrs.  Arnot  was 
too  far  back  to  hear  well.  The  poor  man  seemed  weary 
and  discouraged  with  the  arid  wastes  of  empty  seats  over 


A   SACRED  REFRIGERATOR.  259 

which  he  must  scatter  the  seeds  of  truth  to  no  purpose. 
He  looked  dim  and  ghostly  in  the  far-away  pulpit,  and 
in  spite  of  herself  his  sermon  began  to  have  the  aspect 
of  a  paid  performance,  the  effect  of  which  would  scarcely 
be  more  appreciable  than  the  sighing  of  the  wind  with- 
out. The  keenest  theologian  could  not  detect  the  devia- 
tion of  a  hair  from  the  received  orthodox  views,  and  the 
majority  present  were  evidently  satisfied  that  his  views 
would  be  correct,  for  they  did  not  give  very  close  atten- 
tion. The  few  plain  domestics  near  her  dozed  and  nod- 
ded through  the  hour,  and  so  gained  some  physical  prep- 
aration for  the  toils  of  the  week,  but  their  spiritual  na- 
tures were  as  clearly  dormant  as  their  lumpish  bodies. 

After  the  service  Mrs.  Arnot  lingered,  to  see  if  any 
one  would  speak  to  her  as  a  stranger  and  ask  her  to  come 
again.  Such  was  clearly  not  the  habit  of  the  congrega- 
tion. She  felt  that  her  black  veil,  an  evidence  of  sorrow, 
was  a  sort  of  signal  of  distress  which  ought  to  have  lured 
some  one  to  her  side  with  a  kind  word  or  two,  but  be- 
yond a  few  curious  glances  she  was  unnoticed.  People 
spoke  who  were  acquainted,  who  had  been  introduced  to 
each  other.  As  the  worshipers  (?)  hastened  out,  glad  to 
escape  to  regions  where  Hving  questions  and  interests  ex- 
isted, the  sexton,  who  had  been  dozing  in  a  comfortable 
corner,  bustled  to  the  far  end  of  the  church,  and  com- 
menced, with  an  assistant,  turning  out  the  lights  on  either 
side  so  rapidly  that  it  seemed  as  if  a  wave  of  darkness 
was  following  those  w^ho  had  come  thither  ostensibly  seek- 
ing light. 

Mrs.  Arnot  hastened  to  her  carriage,  where  it  stood 
under  the  obscuring  shadow  of  a  tree,  and  was  driven 
home  sad  and  indignant — most  indignant  at  herself  that 
she  had  been  so  absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts  and  life 
that  she  had  not  discovered  that  the  church  to  build  and 
sustain  which  she  had  given  so  liberally  was  scarcely 
better  than  a  costly  refrigerator. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A    DOUBTFUL    BATTLE   IN    PROSPECT. 

The  painful  impression  made  by  the  evening  service 
that  has  been  described  acted  as  a  rude  disenchantment, 
and  the  beautiful  church,  to  which  Mrs.  Arnot  had  re- 
turned every  Sabbath  morning  with  increasing  pleasure, 
became  as  repulsive  as  it  had  been  sacred  and  attractive. 
To  her  sincere  and  earnest  spirit  any  thing  in  the  nature 
of  a  sham  was  peculiarly  offensive  ;  and  what,  she  often 
asked  herself,  could  be  more  un-Christlike  than  this 
service  which  had  been  held  in  His  name  ? 

The  revelation  so  astonished  and  disheartened  her  that 
she  was  prone  to  beheve  that  there  was  something  excep- 
tional in  that  miserable  Sabbath  evening's  experience, 
and  she  determined  to  observe  further  and  more  closely 
before  taking  any  action.  She  spoke  frankly  of  her  feel- 
ings and  purposes  to  Haldane,  and  in  so  doing  benefited 
the  young  man  very  much  ;  for  he  was  thus  led  to  draw 
a  sharp  line  between  Christ  and  the  Christlike  and  that 
phase  of  Christianity  which  is  largely  leavened  wnth  this 
world.  No  excuse  was  given  him  to  jumble  the  true  and 
the  false  together. 

'•  You  will  do  me  a  favor  if  you  will  quietly  enter  the 
church  next  Sunday  morning  and  evening,  and  unob- 
trusively take  one  of  the  seats  near  the  door,"  she  said 
to  him.  "  I  wish  to  bring  this  matter  to  an  issue  as  soon 
as  possible.  If  you  could  manage  to  enter  a  little  in  ad- 
vance of  me,  I  would  also  be  glad.  I  know  how  Christ 
received  sinners,  and  I  would  hke  to  see  how  we  who 
profess  to  be  representing  Him  receive  those  who  come 
to  His  house." 

Haldane  did  as  she  requested.  In  a  quiet  and  per- 
260 


A    DOUBTFUL   BATTLE  IN  PitOSPECT.        261 

fectly  unobtrusive  manner  he  walked  up  the  granite  steps 
into  the  vestibule,  and  his  coarse,  grey  suit,  although 
scrupulously  clean,  was  conspicuous  in  its  contrast  with 
the  elegant  attire  of  the  other  worshipers.  He  himself 
was  conspicuous  also  ;  for  many  knew  who  he  was, 
and  whispered  the  information  to  others.  A  "jail-bird  " 
was,  indeed,  a  ram  avis  in  that  congregation,  and  there 
was  a  slight,  but  perfectly  decorous,  sensation.  How- 
ever greatly  these  elegant  people  might  lack  the  spirit  of 
Him  who  was  "  the  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners," 
they  would  not  for  the  world  do  any  thing  that  was  overtly 
rude  or  ill-bred.  Only  the  official  sextoft  frowned  visibly 
as  the  youth  took  a  seat  near  the  door.  Others  looked 
askance  or  glided  past  like  polished  icicles.  Haldane's 
teeth  almost  chattered  with  the  cold.  He  felt  himself 
oppressed,  and  almost  pushed  out  of  the  house,  by  the 
moral  atmosphere  created  by  the  repellent  thoughts  of 
some  who  apparently  felt  the  place  defiled  by  his  pres- 
ence. Mrs.  Arnot,  with  her  keen  intuition,  felt  this  at- 
mosphere also,  and  detected  on  the  part  of  one  or  two 
of  the  officers  of  the  Church  an  unchristian  spirit.  Al- 
though the  sermon  was  an  excellent  one  that  morning, 
she  did  not  hear  it. 

In  the  evening  a  lady  draped  in  a  black  vail  sat  by 
Haldane.  The  service  was  but  a  dreary  counterpart  of 
the  one  of  the  previous  Sabbath.  The  sky  had  been 
overcast  and  slightly  threatening,  and  still  fewer  wor- 
shipers had  ventured  out. 

Beyond  furtive  and  curious  glances  no  one  noticed 
them  save  the  sexton,  who  looked  and  acted  as  if  Hal- 
dane's continued  coming  was  a  nuisance,  which,  in  some 
way,  he  must  manage  to  abate. 

The  young  man  waited  for  Mrs.  Arnot  at  her  carriage- 
door,  and  said  as  he  handed  her  in  : 

"  I  have  kept  my  word  ;  but  please  do  not  ask  me  to 
come  to  this  church  again,  or  I  shall  turn  infidel." 


262  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  I  shall  not  come  myself  again,"  she  replied,  '*  unless 
there  is  a  decided  change." 

The  next  morning  she  wrote  notes  to  two  of  the  leading 
officers  of  the  church,  asking  them  to  call  that  evening  ; 
and  her  request  was  so  urgent  that  they  both  came  at  the 
appointed  hour, 

Mrs.  Arnot's  quiet  but  clear  and  distinct  statement  of 
the  evils  of  which  she  had  become  conscious  greatly  sur- 
prised and  annoyed  them.  They,  with  their  associates, 
had  been  given  credit  for  organizing  and  "  running  "  the 
most  fashionable  and  prosperous  church  in  town.  An 
elegant  structure  had  been  built  and  paid  for,  and  such  a 
character  given  the  congregation  that  if  strangers  visited 
or  were  about  to  take  up  their  abode  in  the  city  they  were 
made  to  feel  that  the  door  of  this  church  led  to  social  po- 
sition and  the  most  aristocratic  circles.  Of  course,  mis- 
takes were  made.  People  sometimes  elbowed  their  way 
in  who  were  evidently  flaunting  weeds  among  the 
patrician  flowers,  and  occasionally  plain,  honest,  but 
somewhat  obtuse  souls  would  come  as  to  a  Christian 
church.  But  people  who  were  "not  desirable" — the 
meaning  of  this  phrase  had  become  well  understood  in 
Hillaton — were  generally  frozen  out  by  an  atmosphere 
made  so  chilly,  even  in  August,  that  they  were  glad  to 
escape  to  other  associations  less  benumbing.  Indeed,  it 
was  now  so  generally  recognized  that  only  those  of  the 
best  and  most  assured  social  position  were  "  desirable," 
that  few  others  ventured  up  the  granite  steps  or  sought 
admittance  to  this  region  of  sacred  respectability.  And 
yet  all  this  had  been  brought  about  so  gradually,  and  so 
entirely  within  the  laws  of  good  breeding  and  ecclesias- 
tical usage,  and  also  under  the  most  orthodox  preaching, 
that  no  one  could  lay  his  finger  on  any  thing  upon  which 
to  raise  an  issue. 

The  result  was  just  what  these  officers  had  been  work- 
ing for,  and  it  was  vexatious  indeed  that,  after  years  of 


A   DOUBTFUL  BATTLE  IN  PROSPECT.       263 

successful  manipulation,  a  lady  of  Mrs.  Arnot's  position 
should  threaten  to  make  trouble.  , 

*'  My  dear  Mrs.  Arnot,"  said  one  of  these  polished 
gentlemen,  with  a  suavity  that  was  designed  to  conciliate, 
but  which  was  nevertheless  tinged  with  philosophical 
dogmatism,  "  there  are  certain  things  that  will  not  mix, 
and  the  attempt  to  mingle  them  is  wasting  time  on  the 
impossible.  It  is  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  nature 
that  each  class  should  draw  together  according  to  their 
affinities  and  social  status.  Our  church  is  now  entirely 
homogeneous,  and  every  thing  moves  forward  without 
any  friction." 

"It  appears  to  me  sadly  machine-like,"  the  lady  re- 
marked. 

"Indeed,  madam,"  with  a  trace  of  offended  dignity, 
"  is  not  the  Gospel  ably  preached  ?  " 

"Yes,  but  it  is  not  obeyed.  We  have  been  made 
homogeneous  solely  on  worldly  principles,  and  not  on 
those  taught  in  the  Gospels." 

They  could  not  agree,  as  might  have  been  supposed, 
and-  Mrs.  Arnot  was  thought  to  be  unreasonable  and  full 
of  impracticable  theories. 

"Very  well,  gentlemen,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  some 
warmth,  "  if  there  can  be  no  change  in  these  respects, 
no  other  course  is  left  for  me  but  to  withdraw;"  and 
the  religious  politicians  bowed  themselves  out,  much  re- 
lieved, feeling  that  this  was  the  easiest  solution  of  the 
question. 

Mrs.  Arnot  soon  after  wrote  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Barstow, 
pastor  of  the  church,  for  a  letter  of  dismission.  The 
good  man  was  much  surprised  by  the  contents  of  this 
missive.  Indeed,  it  so  completely  broke  a  chain  of  deep 
theological  speculation,  that  lie  deserted  his  study  for 
the  street.  Here  he  met  an  officer  of  the  church,  a  man 
somewhat  advanced  in  years,  whom  he  had  come  to  re- 
gard as  rather  reserved  and  taciturn  in  disposition.     But 


264   KNIQHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

in  his  perplexity  he  exhibited  Mrs.  Arnot's  letter,  and 
asked  an  explanation. 

"Well,"  said  the  gentleman,  uneasily,  "  I  understand 
that  Mrs.  Arnot  is  dissatisfied,  and  perhaps  she  has  some 
reason  to  be." 

"  Upon  what  grounds  ?  "  asked  the  clergyman  hastily. 

"Suppose  we  call  upon  her,"  was  the  reply.  "I 
would  rather  you  should  hear  her  reasons  from  herself; 
and,  in  fact,  I  would  be  glad  to  hear  them  also." 

Half  an  hour  later  they  sat  in  Mrs.  Arnot's  parlor. 

"My  dear  madam,"  said  Dr.  Barstow,  "are  you 
willing  to  tell  us  frankly  what  has  led  to  the  request  con- 
tained in  this  letter.  I  hope  that  I  am  in  no  way  to 
blame." 

"  Perhaps  we  have  all  been  somewhat  to  blame,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  Arnot  in  a  tone  so  gentle  and  quiet  as  to  prove 
that  she  was  under  the  influence  of  no  unkindly  feeling 
or  resentment  ;  "  at  least  I  feel  that  I  have  been  much  to 
blame  for  not  seeing  what  is  now  but  too  plain.  But 
habit  and  custom  deaden  our  perceptions.  The  aspect 
of  our  church  was  that  of  good  society, — nothing  to  jar 
upon  or  offend  the  most  critical  taste.  Your  sermons 
were  deeply  thoughtful  and  profound,  and  I  both  enjoyed 
and  was  benefited  by  them.  I  came  and  went  wrapped 
up  in  my  own  spiritual  life  and  absorbed  in  my  own  plans 
and  work,  when,  unexpectedly,  an  incident  occurred  which 
-evealed  to  me  what  I  fear  is  the  animus  and  character  of 
Dur  church  organization.  I  can  best  tell  you  what  I  mean 
by  relating  my  experience  and  that  of  a  young  man  whom 
I  have  every  reason  to  believe  wishes  to  lead  a  better  hfe, 
yes,  even  a  Christian  life;"  and  she  graphically  por- 
trayed all  that  had  occurred,  and  the  impressions  made 
upon  her  by  the  atmosphere  she  had  found  prevalent, 
when  she  placed  herself  in  the  attitude  of  a  humble 
stranger. 

"And  now,"  she  said  in  conclusion,  "  do  we  represent 


A   DOUBTFUL  BATTLE  IN  PROSPECT.       265 

Christ,  or  are  we  so  leavened  by  the  world  that  it  may 
be  doubted  whether  He  would  acknowledge  us  ? " 

The  minister  shaded  his  pained  and  troubled  face  with 
his  hand. 

"  We  represent  the  world,"  said  the  church  officer  em- 
phatically ;  "I  have  had  a  miserable  consciousness  of 
whither  we  were  drifting  for  a  long  time,  but  every  thing 
has  come  about  so  gradually  and  so  properly,  as  it  were, 
that  I  could  find  no  one  thing  upon  which  I  could  lay  my 
finger  and  say.  This  is  wrong  and  I  protest  against  it. 
Of  course,  if  I  had  heard  the  sexton  make  such  a  remark 
to  any  one  seeking  to  enter  the  house  of  God  as  was  made 
to  the  young  man  you  mention  I  should  have  interfered. 
And  yet  the  question  is  one  of  great  difficulty.  Can  such 
diverse  classes  meet  on  common  ground?  " 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  earnestly,  "  I  do  not 
think  we,  as  a  church,  are  called  upon  to  adjust  these 
diverse  classes,  and  to  settle,  on  the  Sabbath,  nice  social 
distinctions.  The  Head  of  the  Church  said,  '  Whosoever 
will,  let  him  come.'  We,  pretending  to  act  in  His  name 
and  by  His  authority,  say,  '  Whosoever  is  sufficiently  re- 
spectable and  well-dressed,  let  him  come.'  I  feel  that  I 
cannot  any  longer  be  a  party  to  this  perversion. 

"If  we  would  preserve  our  right  to  be  known  as  a 
Christian  church  we  must  say  to  all,  to  the  poor,  to  the 
most  sinful  and  debased,  as  well  as  to  those  who  are  now 
welcomed,  '  Come  ; '  and  when  they  are  within  our  walls 
they  should  be  made  to  feel  that  the  house  does  not  be- 
long to  an  aristocratic  clique,  but  rather  to  Him  who  was 
the  friend  of  publicans  and  sinners.  Christ  adjusted 
Himself  to  the  diverse  classes.     Are  we  His  superiors?" 

"  But,  my  dear  madame,  are  there  to  be  no  social  dis- 
tinctions? " 

"  I  am  not  speaking  of  social  distinctions.  Birth,  cul- 
ture, and  wealth  will  always,  and  very  properly,  too,  make 
great  differences.     In  inviting  people  to  our  homes  we 


266   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

may  largely  consult  our  own  tastes  and  preferences,  and 
neither  good  sense  nor  Christian  duty  requires  that  there 
should  be  intimacy  between  those  unfitted  for  it  by  edu- 
cation and  character.  But  a  church  is  not  our  house, 
but  God's  house,  and  what  right  have  we  to  stand  in  the 
door  and  turn  away  those  whom  He  most  cordially  in- 
vites ?  Christ  had  His  beloved  disciple,  and  so  we  can 
have  our  beloved  and  congenial  friends.  But  there  were 
none  too  low  or  lowly  for  Him  to  help  by  direct  personal 
effort,  by  sympathetic  contact,  and  I,  for  one,  dare  not 
ignore  His  example." 

"  Do  you  not  think  we  can  better  accomplish  this  work 
by  our  mission  chapel  ?  " 

"Where  is  your  precedent?  Christ  washed  the  feet 
of  fishermen  in  order  to  give  us  an  example  of  humil- 
ity, and  to  teach  us  that  we  should  be  willing  to  serve 
any  one  in  His  name.  I  heartily  approve  of  mission 
chapels  as  outposts  ;  but,  as  in  earthly  warfare,  they 
should  be  posts  of  honor,  posts  for  the  brave,  the  saga- 
cious, and  the  most  worthy.  If  they  are  maintained  in 
the  character  of  second-class  cars,  they  are  to  that  ex- 
tent unchristian.  If  those  who  are  gathered  there  are  to 
be  kept  there  solely  on  account  of  their  dress  and  hum- 
ble circumstances,  I  would  much  prefer  taking  my 
chances  of  meeting  my  Master  with  them  than  in  the 
church  which  practically  excludes  them. 

"  Christ  said,  '  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  Me  in.' 
I  came  to  our  church  as  a  stranger  twice.  I  was  per- 
mitted to  walk  in  and  walk  out,  but  no  one  spoke  to  me, 
no  one  invited  me  to  come  again.  It  seems  to  me  that 
I  would  starve  rather  than  enter  a  private  house  where  I 
was  so  coldly  treated.  I  have  no  desire  for  startling  in- 
novations. I  simply  wish  to  unite  myself  with  a  church 
that  is  trying  to  imitate  the  example  of  the  Master,  and 
where  all,  whatever  may  be  their  garb  or  social  and  moral 
character,  are  cordially  invited  and  sincerely  welcomed." 


A   DOUBTFUL   BATTLE  IN  PROSPECT.       267 

Dr.  Barstow  now  removed  his  hand  from  his  face.  It 
-was  pale,  but  its  expression  was  resolute  and  noble. 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,  permit  me  to  say  that  you  are  both  right 
and  wrong,"  he  said.  "  Your  views  of  what  a  church 
should  be  are  right  ;  you  are  wrong  in  wishing  to  with- 
draw before  having  patiently  and  prayerfully  sought  to 
inculcate  a  true  Christian  spirit  among  those  to  whom 
you  owe  and  have  promised  Christian  fidelity.  You 
know  that  I  have  not  very  long  been  the  pastor  of  this 
church,  but  I  have  already  felt  that  something  was  amiss. 
I  have  been  oppressed  and  benumbed  with  a  certain 
coldness  and  formality  in  our  church  life.  At  the  same 
time  I  admit,  with  contrition,  that  I  have  given  way  to 
my  besetting  sin.  I  am  naturally  a  student,  and  when 
once  in  my  study  I  forget  the  outside  world.  I  am  prone 
to  become  wholly  occupied  with  the  thought  of  my  text, 
and  to  forget  those  for  whom  I  am  preparing  my  dis- 
course. I,  too,  often  think  more  of  the  sermon  than  of 
the  people,  forgetting  the  end  in  the  means,  and  thus  I 
fear  I  was  becoming  but  a  voice,  a  religious  philosophy, 
among  them,  instead  of  a  living  and  a  personal  power. 
You  have  been  awakened  to  the  truth,  Mrs.  Arnot,  and 
you  have  awakened  me.  I  do  not  feel  equal  to  the  task 
which  I  clearly  foresee  before  me  ;  I  may  fail  miserably, 
but  I  shall  no  longer  darken  counsel  with  many  words. 
You  have  given  me  much  food  for  thought ;  and  while  I 
cannot  foretell  the  end,  I  think  present  duty  will  be  made 
clear.  In  times  of  perplexity  it  is  our  part  to  do  what 
seems  right,  asking  God  for  guidance,  and  then  leave  the 
consequences  to  Him.  One  thing  seems  plain  to  me, 
however,  that  it.  is  your  present  duty  to  remain  with  us, 
and  give  your  prayers  and  the  whole  weight  of  your  in- 
fluence on  the  side  of  reform." 

"  Dr.  Barstow,"  said  Mrs,  Arnot,  her  face  flushing 
slightly,  "you  are  right;  you  are  right.  I  have  been 
hasty,  and,  while  condemning  others,  was  acting  wrong 


268   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

myself.  You  have  shown  the  truer  Christian  spirit.  I 
will  remain  while  there  is  any  hope  of  a  change  for  the 
better." 

"Well,  Mrs.  Arnot,"  said  Mr.  Blakeman,  the  elderly 
church  officer,  "  I  have  drawn  you  out  partly  to  get  your 
views  and  partly  to  get  some  clearer  views  myself.  I, 
too,  am  with  you,  doctor,  in  this  struggle  ;  but  I  warn 
you  both  that  we  shall  have  a  hot  time  before  we  thaw 
the  ice  out  of  our  church." 

"First  pure,  and  then  peaceable,"  said  the  minister 
slowly  and  musingly  ;  and  then  they  separated,  each 
feeling  somewhat  as  soldiers  who  are  about  to  engage  in 
a  severe  and  doubtful  battle. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

A    FOOT-HOLD. 

The  skies  did  not  brighten  for  Haldane,  and  he  re- 
mained perplexed  and  despondent.  When  one  wishes 
to  reform,  every  thing  does  not  become  lovely  in  this  un- 
friendly world.  The  first  steps  are  usually  the  most  dif- 
ficult, and  the  earhest  experience  the  most  disheartening. 
God  never  designed  that  reform  should  be  easy.  As  it 
is,  people  are  too  ready  to  live  the  life  which  renders  re- 
form necessary.  The  ranks  of  the  victims  of  evil  would 
be  doubled  did  not  a  wholesome  fear  of  the  consequences 
restrain. 

Within  a  few  short  weeks  the  fortunes  of  the  wealthy 
and  self-confident  youth  had  altered  so  greatly  that  now 
he  questioned  whether  the  world  would  give  him  bread, 
except  on  conditions  that  were  painfully  repugnant. 

There  was  his  mother's  offer,  it  is  true  ;  but  had  Mrs. 
Haldane  considered  the  nature  of  this  offer,  even  she 
could  scarcely  have  made  it.  Suppose  he  tried  to  follow 
out  his  mother's  plan,  and  w^ent  to  a  city  where  he  was 
unknown,  could  she  expect  an  active  young  fellow  to  go 
to  an  obscure  boarding-house,  and  merely  eat  and  sleep? 
By  an  inevitable  law  the  springing  forces  of  his  nature 
must  find  employment  either  in  good  or  evil.  If  he 
sought  employment  of  any  kind  the  question  would  at 
once  arise,  "  Who  are  you?"  and  sooner  or  later  would 
come  his  history.  In  his  long,  troubled  reveries  he 
thought  of  all  this,  and  the  prospect  of  vegetating  in  dull 
obscurity  at  his  mother's  expense  was  as  pleasant  as  that 
of  being  buried  alive. 

Moreover,  he  could  not  endure  to  leave  Hillaton  in  ut- 

269 


270   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ter  defeat.  He  was  prostrate,  and  felt  the  foot  of  adverse 
fate  upon  his  neck,  but  he  would  not  acknowledge  him- 
self conquered.  If  he  could  regain  his  feet  he  would  re- 
new the  struggle  ;  and  he  hoped  in  some  way  to  do  so. 
As  yet,  however,  the  future  was  a  wall  of  darkness. 

Neither  did  he  find  any  rest  for  his  spiritual  feet.  For 
some  reason  he  could  not  grasp  ^the  idea  of  a  personal 
God  who  cared  enough  for  him  to  give  any  practical 
help.  In  spite  of  all  that  Mrs.  Arnot  could  say,  his  heart 
remained  as  cold  and  heavy  as  a  stone  within  his  breast. 

But  to  some  extent  he  could  appreciate  the  picture  she 
had  presented.  He  saw  one  who,  through  weakness 
and  folly,  had  fallen  into  the  depths  of  degradation,  pa- 
tiently and  bravely  fighting  his  way  up  to  a  true  man- 
hood ;  and  he  had  been  made  to  feel  that  it  was  such  a 
noble  thing  to  do  that  he  longed  to  accomplish  it. 
Whether  he  could  or  no  he  was  not  sure,  for  his  old  con- 
fidence was  all  gone.  But  he  daily  grew  more  bent  on 
making  an  honest  trial,  and  in  this  effort  a  certain  native 
persistency  and  unwillingness  to  yield  would  be  of  much 
help  to  him. 

He  was  now  willing,  also,  to  receive  any  aid  which 
self-respect  permitted  him  to  accept,  and  was  grateful  for 
the  copying  obtained  for  him  by  Mrs.  Arnot.  But  she 
frankly  told  him  that  it  would  not  last  long.  The  ques- 
tion what  he  should  do  next  pressed  heavily  upon  him. 

As  he  was  reading  the  paper  to  Mr.  Growther  one 
evening,  his  eye  caught  an  advertisement  which  stated 
that  more  hands  were  needed  at  a  certain  factory  in  the 
suburbs.  He  felt  sure  that  if  he  presented  himself  in  the 
morning  with  the  others  he  would  be  refused,  and  he 
formed  the  bold  purpose  of  going  at  once  to  the  manu- 
facturer. Having  found  the  stately  residence,  he  said  to 
the  servant  who  answered  his  summons, 

"Will  you  say  to  Mr.  Ivison  that  a  person  wishes  to 
see  him  ? ' ' 


A   FOOT-HOLD.  271 

The  maid  eyed  him  critically,  and  concluded,  from  his 
garb,  to  leave  him  standing  in  the  hall. 

Mr.  Ivison  left  his  guests  in  the  parlor  and  came  out, 
annoyed  at  the  interruption. 

"Well,  what  do  you  wish,  sir?  "  he  said,  in  a  tone  that 
was  far  from  being  encouraging,  at  the  same  time  gain- 
ing an  unfavorable  impression  from  Haldane's  dress. 

"  In  the  evening  paper  you  advertised  for  more  hands 
in  your  factory.     I  wish  employment." 

"  Are  you  drunk,  or  crazy,  that  you  thus  apply  at  my 
residence?  "  was  the  harsh  reply. 

"  Neither,  sir  ;  I  — " 

"You  are  very  presuming,  then." 

"  You  would  not  employ  me  if  I  came  in  the  morning." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?     Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  at  least  human.  Can  you  give  one  or  two  mo- 
ments to  the  consideration  of  my  case  ?  ' ' 

"  One  might  afford  that  much,"  said  the  gentleman 
with  a  half-apologetic  laugh  ;  for  the  pale  face  and  pecul- 
iar bearing  of  the  stranger  were  beginning  to  interest 
him. 

"  I  do  not  ask  more  of  your  time,  and  will  come  di- 
rectly to  the  point.  My  name  is  Haldane,  and,  as  far  as 
I  am  concerned,  you  know  nothing  good  concerning  me. ' ' 

"  You  are  correct,"  said  Mr.  Ivison  coldly.  "  I  shall 
not  need  your  services." 

"  Mr.  Ivison,"  said  Haldane  in  a  tone  that  made  the 
gentleman  pause,  "  ought  I  to  be  a  thief  and  a  vaga- 
bond ?  " 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  Then  why  do  you,  and  all  who,  like  you,  have  honest 
work  to  give,  leave  me  no  other  alternative  ?  I  have 
acted  wrongly  and  foolishly,  but  I  wish  to  do  better.  I 
do  not  ask  a  place  of  trust,  only  work  with  others,  under 
the  eyes  of  others,  where  I  could  not  rob  you  of  a  cent's 
worth  if  I  wished.     In  the  hurry  and  routine  of  your  of- 


272   KNIGUT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

fice  you  would  not  listen  to  me,  so  I  come  to-night  and 
make  this  appeal.  If  you  refuse  it,  and  I  go  to  the  devil, 
you  will  have  a  hand  in  the  result." 

The  prompt  business-man,  whose  mind  had  learned  to 
work  with  the  rapidity  of  his  machinery,  looked  at  the 
troubled,  half-desperate  face  a  moment,  and  then  said 
emphatically, 

"  By  Jove,  you  are  right !  I'll  give  you  work.  Come 
to-morrow.  Good  night,  and  good  luck  to  your  good  in- 
tentions.    But  remember,  no  nonsense." 

Here  at  last  was  a  chance  ;  here  at  last  was  regular 
employment.  It  was  one  step  forward.  Would  he  be 
able  to  hold  it  ?  This  seemed  doubtful  on  the  morrow 
after  he  had  realized  the  nature  of  his  surroundings.  He 
was  set  to  work  in  a  large  room  full  of  men,  boys,  and 
slatternly-dressed  girls.  He  was  both  scolded  and 
laughed  at  for  the  inevitable  awkwardness  of  a  new  be- 
ginner, and  soon  his  name  and  history  began  to  be  whis- 
pered about.  During  the  noon  recess  a  rude  fellow  flung 
the  epithet  of  "jail-bird  "  at  him,  and,  of  course,  it  stuck 
like  a  burr.  Never  in  all  his  life  had  he  made  such  an 
effort  at  self-control  as  that  which  kept  his  hands  off  this 
burly  tormentor. 

He  both  puzzled  and  annoyed  his  companions.  They 
knew  that  he  did  not  belong  to  their  class,  and  his  bear- 
ing and  manner  made  them  unpleasantly  conscious  of 
his  superiority  ;  and  yet  all  believed  themselves  so  much 
more  respectable  than  he,  that  they  felt  it  was  a  wrong  to 
them  that  he  should  be  there  at  all.  Thus  he  was  pre- 
destined to  dislike  and  ill-treatment.  But  that  he  could 
act  as  if  he  were  deaf  and  bhnd  to  all  that  they  could  do 
or  say  was  more  than  they  could  understand.  With  knit 
brows  and  firmly-closed  lips  he  bent  his  whole  mind  to 
the  mastery  of  the  mechanical  duties  required  of  him,  and 
when  they  were  over  he  strode  straight  to  his  humble 
lodging-place. 


A   FOOT-HOLD.  273 

Mr.  Growther  watched  him  curiously  as  he  reacted 
into  lassitude  and  despondency  after  the  strain  and  ten- 
sion of  the  day. 

"  It's  harder  to  stand  than  'tis  to  git  along  with  me, 
isn't  it .''  " 

"  Yes,  much  harder." 

*' O  thunder!  better  give  it  up,  then,  and  try  some- 
thing else." 

"  No.  it's  my  only  chance." 

"  There's  plenty  other  things  to  do." 

"  Not  for  me.  These  vulgar  wretches  I  am  working 
with  think  it  an  outrage  that  a  'jail-bird,'  as  they  call 
me,  contaminates  the  foul  air  that  they  breathe.  I  may 
be  driven  out  by  them  ;  but,"  setting  his  teeth,  "I  won't 
give  up  this  foot-hold  of  my  own  accord." 

"  You  might  have  been  President  if  you  had  shown 
such  grit  before  you  got  down." 

"  That's  not  pleasant  to  think  of  now." 

"  I  might  *a  known  that  ;  but  it's  my  mean  way  of 
comfortin'  people.     A-a-h." 

Haldane's  new  venture  out  into  the  world  could 
scarcely  have  had  a  more  painful  and  prosaic  beginning  ; 
but,  as  he  said,  he  had  gained  a  "foot-hold." 

There  was  one  other  encouraging  fact,  of  which  he  did 
not  know.  Mr.  Ivison  sent  for  the  foreman  of  the  room 
in  which  Haldane  had  been  set  at  work,  and  said, 

"Give  the  young  fellow  a  fair  chance,  and  report  to 
me  from  time  to  time  how  he  behaves  ;  but  say  nothing 
of  this  to  him.  If  he  gets  at  his  old  tricks,  discharge 
him  at  once  ;  but  if  he  shows  the  right  spirit,  I  wish  to 
know  it." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

"THAT    SERMON   WAS   A    BOMB-SHELL." 

The  following  Sabbath  morning  smiled  so  brightly  that 
one  might  .be  tempted  to  believe  that  there  was  no  sin 
and  misery  in  the  world,  and  that  such  a  church  as  Mrs. 
Arnot  condemned  was  an  eminently  proper  organization. 
As  the  congregation  left  their  elegant  homes,  and  in  ele- 
gant toilets  wended  their  way  to  their  elegant  church, 
they  saw  nothing  in  the  blue  sky  and  sunshine  to  remind 
them  of  the  heavy  shadows  brooding  over  the  earth. 
What  more  was  needed  than  that  they  should  give  an 
hour  to  their  esthetic  worship,  as  they  had  done  in  the 
past  when  the  weather  permitted,  and  then  return  to  din- 
ner and  a  nap  and  all  the  ordinary  routine  of  life  ?  There 
were  no  "beasts  at  Ephesus  "  to  fight  now.  The  times 
had  changed,  and  to  live  in  this  age  like  an  ancient  Chris- 
tian would  be  like  going  to  Boston  on  foot  when  one 
might  take  a  palace  car.  Hundreds  of  fully  grown,  per- 
fectly sane  people  filed  into  the  church,  who  com- 
placently felt  that  in  attending  service  once  or  twice  a 
week,  if  so  inclined,  they  were  very  good  Christians. 
And  yet,  strange  to  say,  there  was  a  conspicuous  cross 
on  the  spire,  and  they  had  named  their  church  "St. 
Paul's." 

St.  Paul !  Had  they  read  his  life  ?  If  so,  how  came 
they  to  satirize  themselves  so  severely  ?  A  dwarf  is  the 
more  to  be  pitied  if  named  after  a  giant. 

It  was  very  queer  that  this  church  should  name  itself 
after  the  tent-maker,  who  became  all  things  to  all  men, 
and  who  said,  "  I  made  myself  servant  unto  all  that  I 
might  gain  the  more." 

It  was  very  unfortunate  for  them  to  have  chosen  this 
274 


''THAT  SERMON   WAS  A   BOMB-SHELL:'     275 

saint,  and  yet  the  name,  Saint  Paul,  had  a  very  aristo- 
cratic sound  in  Hillaton,  and  thus  far  had  seemed  pecul- 
.iarly  fitted  to  the  costly  edifice  on  which  it  was  carved. 

And  never  had  the  church  seemed  more  stately  than 
on  this  brilhant  Sabbath  morning,  never  had  its  elegance 
and  that  of  the  worshipers  seemed  more  in  harmony. 

But  the  stony  repose  and  calm  of  their  Gothic  temple 
was  not  reflected  in  the  faces  of  the  people.  There  was 
a  general  air  of  perturbation  and  expectancy.  The  pe- 
culiar and  complacent  expression  of  those  who  are  con- 
scious of  being  especially  well  dressed  and  respectable 
was  conspicuously  absent.  Annoyed,  vexed,  anxious 
faces  passed  into  the  vestibule.  Knots  of  twos,  threes, 
and  half-dozens  lingered  and  talked  eagerly,  with  em- 
phatic gestures  and  much  shaking  of  heads.  Many  who 
disliked  rough  weather  from  any  cause  avoided  their  fel- 
low-members, and  ghded  hastily  in,  looking  worried  and 
uncomfortable.  Between  the  managing  officers,  who 
had  fehcitated  themselves  on  having  secured  a  congrega- 
tion containing  the  crime  de  la  crhne  of  the  city,  on  one 
hand,  and  the  disquieted  Mr.  Blakeman,  who  found  the 
church  growing  uncomfortably  cold,  on  the  other,  Mrs. 
Arnot's  words  and  acts  and  the  minister's  implied  pledge 
to  bring  the  matter  squarely  to  an  issue,  had  become 
generally  known,  and  a  foreboding  as  of  some  great 
catastrophe  oppressed  the  people.  If  the  truth  were 
known,  there  w^ere  very  general  misgivings;  and,  now 
that  the  people  had  been  led  to  think,  there  were  some 
uncomfortable  aspects  to  the  question.  Even  that  august 
dignitary  the  sexton  was  in  a  painful  dilemma  as  to 
whether  it  would  be  best  to  assume  an  air  of  offended 
dignity,  or  veer  with  these  eddying  and  varying  currents 
until  sure  from  what  quarter  the  wind  would  finally  blow. 
He  had  learned  that  it  was  Mrs.  Arnot  whom  he  had 
twice  carelessly  motioned  with  his  thumb  into  a  back 
seat,  and  he  could  not  help  remarking  to  several  of  the 


276  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTUR     . 

more  conservative  members,  that  "  it  wai  very  unjust  and 
also  unkind  in  Mrs.  Arnot  to  palm  herself  off  on  him  as 
an  ordinary  pusson,  when  for  a  long  time  it  had  been  the 
plainly  understood  policy  of  the  church  not  to  encourage 
ordinary  pussons." 

But  the  rumor  that  something  unusual  was  about  to 
take  place  at  St.  Paul's  brought  thither  on  this  particular 
Sabbath  all  kinds  and  descriptions  of  people  ;  and  the 
dignified  functionary  whose  duty  it  was  to  seat  them 
grew  so  hot  and  flustered  with  his  unwonted  tasks,  and 
made  such  strange  blunders  that  both  he  and  others  felt 
that  they  were  on  the  verge  of  chaos.  But  the  most  ex- 
traordinary appearing  personage  was  no  other  than  Mr. 
Jeremiah  Growther ;  and,  as  with  his  gnarled  cane  he 
hobbled  along  at  Haldane's  side,  he  looked  for  all  the 
world  as  if  some  grotesque  and  antique  carving  had  come 
to  life  and  was  out  for  an  airing.  Not  only  the  sexton, 
but  many  others,  looked  askance  at  the  tall,  broad- 
shouldered  youth  of  such  evil  fame,  and  his  weird-ap- 
pearing companion,  as  they  walked  quite  far  up  the  aisle 
before  they  could  find  a  seat. 

Many  rubbed  their  eyes  to  be  sure  it  was  not  a  dream. 
What  had  come  over  the  decorous  and  elegant  St. 
Paul's?  When  before  had  its  dim,  religious  light  re- 
vealed such  scenes?  Whence  this  irruption  of  strange, 
uncouth  creatures, — a  jail-bird  in  a  laborer's  garb,  and 
the  profane  old  hermit,  whom  the  boys  had  nicknamed 
"Jerry  Growler,"  and  who  had  not  been  seen  in  church 
for  years. 

Mrs.  Arnot,  followed  by  many  eyes,  passed  quietly  up 
to  her  pew,  and  bowed  her  head  in  prayer. 

Prayer  !  Ah  !  in  their  perturbation  some  had  forgotten 
that  this  was  the  place  of  prayer,  and  hastily  bowed  their 
heads  also. 

Mr.  Arnot  had  been  engaged  in  his  business  to  the 
very  steps,  and  much  too  absorbed  during  the  week  to 


''THAT  SER3fON   WAS  A   BOMB-SHELL.''     217 

hear  or  heed  any  rumors  ;  but  as  he  walked  up  the  aisle 
he  stared  around  in  evident  surprise,  and  gave  several 
furtive  glances  over  his  shoulder  after  being  seated.  As 
his  wife  raised  her  head,  he  leaned  toward  her  and  whis- 
pered : 

"What's  the  matter  with  Jeems  ?  for,  if  I  mistake  not, 
there  are  a  good  many  second-class  saints  here  to-day." 
But  not  a  muscle  changed  in  Mrs.  Arnot's  pale  face. 
Indeed,  she  scarcely  heard  him.  Her  soul  was  and  had 
been  for  several  days  in  the  upper  sanctuary,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  God,  pleading  with  Him  that  He  would  return  to 
this  earthly  temple  which  the  spirit  of  the  world  had 
seemingly  usurped. 

When  Dr.  Barstow  arose  to  commence  the  service,  a 
profound  hush  fell  upon  the  people.  Even  his  face  and 
bearing  impressed  and  awed  them,  and  it  was  evident 
that  he,  too,  had  climbed  some  spiritual  mountain,  and 
had  been  face  to  face  with  God. 

As  he  proceeded  with  the  service  in  tones  that  were 
deep  and  magnetic,  the  sense  of  unwonted  solemnity  in- 
creased. Hymns  had  been  selected  which  the  choir  could 
not  perform,  but  must  sing  ;  and  the  relation  between  the 
sacred  words  and  the  music  was  apparent.  The  Scripture 
lessons  were  read  as  if  they  were  a  message  for  that  par- 
ticular congregation  and  for  that  special  occasion,  and,  as 
the  simple  and  authoritative  words  fell  on  the  ear  the  gen- 
eral misgiving  was  increased.  They  seemed  wholly  on 
Mrs.  Arnot's  side  ;  or,  rather,  she  was  on  theirs. 

When,  at  last.  Dr.  Barstow  rose,  not  as  a  sacred  orator 
and  theologian  who  is  about  to  deliver  a  sermon,  but 
rather  as  an  earnest  man,  who  had  something  of  vital 
moment  to  say,  the  silence  became  almost  oppressive. 

Instead  of  commencing  by  formally  announcing  his  text, 
as  was  his  custom,  he  looked  silently  and  steadily  at  his 
people  for  a  moment,  thus  heightening  their  expectancy. 

"  My  friends,"  he  began  slowly  and  quietly,  and  there 


278   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

was  a  suggestion  of  sorrow  in  his  tone  rather  than  of 
menace  or  denunciation  ;  "my  friends,  I  wish  to  ask 
your  calm  and  unprejudiced  attention  to  what  I  shall  say 
this  morning.  I  ask  you  to  interpret  my  words  in  the 
light  of  the  word  of  God  and  your  own  consciences  ;  and 
if  I  am  wrong  in  any  respect  I  will  readily  acknowledge 
it.  Upon  a  certain  occasion  Christ  said  to  His  disciples, 
•  Ye  know  not  what  manner  of  spirit  ye  are  of ; '  and  He 
at  once  proved  how  widely  His  spirit  differed  from  theirs. 
They  accepted  the  lesson, — they  still  followed  Him,  and 
through  close  companionship  eventually  acquired  His 
merciful,  catholic  spirit.  But  at  this  time  they  did  not 
understand  Him  nor  themselves.  Perhaps  we  can  best 
understand  the  spirit  we  are  of  by  considering  His,  and 
by  learning  to  know  Him  better  whom  we  worship,  by 
whose  name  we  are  called, 

"  During  the  past  week  I  have  been  brought  face  to 
face  with  the  Christ  of  the  Bible,  rather  than  the  Christ 
of  theology  and  philosophy,  who  has  hitherto  dwelt  in  my 
study  ;  and  I  have  learned  with  sorrow  and  shame  that 
my  spirit  differed  widely  from  His.  The  Christ  that  came 
from  heaven  thought  of  the  people,  and  had  compassion 
on  the  multitude.  I  was  engrossed  with  my  sermons,  my 
systems  of  truth,  and  nice  interpretations  of  passages  that 
I  may  have  rendered  more  obscure.  But  I  have  made  a 
vow  in  His  name  and  strength  that  henceforth  I  will  no 
longer  come  into  this  pulpit,  or  go  into  any  other,  to 
deliver  sermons  of  my  own.  I  shall  no  longer  philoso- 
phize about  Christ,  but  endeavor  to  lead  you  directly  to 
Christ  ;  and  thus  you  will  learn  by  comparison  what 
manner  of  spirit  you  are  of,  and,  I  trust,  become  imbued 
with  His  Spirit.  I  shall  speak  the  truth  in  love,  and  yet 
without  fear,  and  with  no  wordy  disguise.  Henceforth  I 
do  not  belong  to  you  but  to  my  Master,  and  I  shall  pre- 
sent the  Christ  who  loved  all,  who  died  for  all,  and  who 
said  to  all,  '  Whosoever  will,  let  him  come  !  ' 


''THAT  SERMON    WAS  A    BOBIB-SHELL:'     279 

••  You  will  find  my  text  in  the  Gospel  of  St.  John,  the 
nineteenth  chapter  and  fifth  verse  : 

"  '  Then  came  Jesus  forth,  wearing  the  crown  of  thorns 
and  the  purple  robe.  And  Pilate  saith  unto  them,  Behold 
the  Man  !  ' 

"  Let  us  behold  Him  to-day,  and  learn  to  know  Him 
and  to  know  ourselves  better.  If  we  discover  any  sad 
and  fatal  mistake  in  our  religious  life,  let  us  correct  it 
before  it  is  too  late." 

It  would  be  impossible  to  portray  the  effect  of  the 
sermon  that  followed,  coming,  as  it  did,  from  a  strong 
soul  stirred  to  its  depths  by  the  truth  under  consideration. 
The  people  for  the  time  being  were  swayed  by  it  and 
carried  away.  What  was  said  was  seen  to  be  truth,  felt 
to  be  truth  ;  and  as  the  divine  Man  stood  out  before  them 
luminous  in  His  own  loving  and  compassionate  deeds, 
which  manifested  His  character  and  the  principles  of  the 
faith  he  founded,  the  old,  exclusive,  self-pleasing  life  of 
the  church  shriveled  up  as  a  farce  and  a  sham. 

"In  conclusion,"  said  Dr.  Barstow,  "what  was  the 
spirit  of  this  Man  when  He  summoned  publicans  and 
fishermen  to  be  His  followers  ?  what  was  His  spirit  when 
He  laid  His  hand  on  the  leper?  what,  when  He  said  to  the 
outcast,  '  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee,  go  and  sin  no  more  ? ' 
what,  when  to  the  haughty  Pharisees,  the  most  respectable 
people  of  that  day,  he  threatened,  'Woe  unto  you,' 

"  He  looked  after  the  rich  and  almost  perfect  young 
man,  by  whom  He  was  nevertheless  rejected,  and  loved 
him;  He  also  said  to  the  penitent  thief,  'To-day  thou 
shalt  be  with  me  in  Paradise.'  His  heart  was  as  large  as 
humanity.     Such  was  His  spirit." 

After  a  moment's  pause,  in  which  there  was  a  hush  of 
breathless  expectancy,  Dr.  Barstow's  deep  tones  were 
again  heard.  "  God  grant  that  henceforth  yonder  doors 
may  be  open  to  all  whom  Christ  received,  and  with  the 
same  welcome  that  He  gave.     If  this  cannot  be,  the  name 


280   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

of  St.  Paul,  the  man  wlio  'made  himself  the  servant  unto 
all  that  he  might  gain  the  more,'  can  no  longer  remain 
upon  this  church  save  in  mockery.  If  this  cannot  be, 
whoever  may  come  to  this  temple,  Christ  will  not  come  to 
enter  it,  nor  dwell  within  it." 

The  people  looked  at  each  other,  and  drew  a  long 
breath.  Even  those  who  were  most  in  love  with  the  old 
system  forgot  Dr.  Barstow,  and  felt  for  the  moment  that 
they  had  a  controversy  with  his  Master. 

The  congregation  broke  up  in  a  quiet  and  subdued 
manner.  All  were  too  deeply  impressed  by  what  they 
had  heard  to  be  in  a  mood  for  talking  as  yet  ;  and  of  the 
majority,  it  should  be  said  in  justice  that,  conscious  of 
wrong,  they  were  honestly  desirous  of  a  change  for  the 
better. 

During  the  sermon  Mr.  Growther's  quaint  and  wrinkled 
visage  had  worked  most  curiously,  and  there  were  times 
when  he  with  difficulty  refrained  from  a  hearty  though 
rather  profane  indorsement. 

On  his  way  home  he  said  to  Haldane,  "  I've  lived  like 
a  heathen  on  Lord's  day  and  all  days  ;  but,  by  the  holy 
poker,  I'll  hear  that  parson  hereafter  every  Sunday,  rain 
or  shine,  if  I  have  to  fight  my  way  into  the  church  with  a 
club." 

A  peculiar  fire  burned  in  the  young  man's  eyes,  and  his 
lips  were  very  firm,  but  he  made  no  reply.  The  Man 
whose  portraiture  he  had  beheld  that  day  was  a  revela- 
tion, and  he  hoped  that  this  divine  yet  human  Friend 
might  make  a  man  of  him. 

"Well,"  remarked  Mr.  Arnot,  sententiously,  "that 
sermon  was  a  perfect  bomb-shell  ;  and,  mark  my  words, 
it  will  either  blow  the  doctor  out  of  his  pulpit,  or  some 
of  the  first-class  saints  out  of  their  pews." 

But  a  serene  and  hopeful  light  shone  from  Mrs.  Arnot's 
eyes,  and  she  only  said,  in  a  low  tone, 

"  'The  Lord  is  in  His  holy  temple.'  " 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

MR.    GROWTHER   FEEDS   AN   ANCIENT   GRUDGE. 

The  problem  in  regard  to  the  future  of  St.  Paul's 
Church,  which  had  so  greatly  burdened  Dr.  Barstovv^ 
was  substantially  solved.  Christ  had  obtained  control 
of  the  preacher's  heart,  and  henceforth  would  not  be  a 
dogma,  but  a  living  presence,  in  his  sermons.  The 
Pharisees  of  old  could  not  keep  the  multitudes  from 
Him,  though  their  motives  for  following  Him  were  often* 
very  mixed.  Although  the  philosophical  Christ  of 
theology,  whom  Dr.  Barstow  had  ably  preached,  could 
not  change  the  atmosphere  of  St.  Paul's,  the  Christ 
of  the  Bible,  the  Man  of  Sorrows,  the  meek  and  lowly 
Nazarene,  could,  and  the  masses  would  be  tempted  to 
feel  that  they  had  a  better  right  in  a  place  sacred  to  His 
worship  than  those  who  resembled  Him  in  spirit  as  little 
as  they  did  in  the  pomp  of  their  life. 

There  would  be  friction  at  first,  and  some  serious, 
trouble.  Mr.  Arnot's  judgment  was  correct,  and  some 
of  the  "first-class  saints"  (in  their  own  estimation), 
would  be  "  blown  out  of  their  pews."  St.  Paul's  would 
eventually  cease  to  be  the  fashionable  Church  par  ex- 
celleiice  ;  and  this  fact  alone  would  be  good  and  sufficient 
reason  for  a  change  on  the  part  of  some  who  intend  to  be 
select  in  their  associations  on  earth,  whatever  relations 
with  the  "  mixed  multitude  "  they  may  have  to  endure  \n 
heaven.  But  the  warm-hearted  and  true-hearted  would 
remain  ;  and  every  church  grows  stronger  as  the  Phari- 
sees depart  and  the  publicans  and  sinners  enter. 

The  congregation  that  gathered  at  the  evening  service 
281 


^82   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

of  the  memorable  Sabbath  described  in  the  previous 
chapter  was  prophetic.  Many  of  the  wealthy  and  aristo- 
cratic members  were  absent,  either  from  habit  or  disgust. 
Haldane,  Mr.  Growther,  and  many  who  in  some  respects 
resembled  them,  were  present.  "  Jeems,"  the  discrimi- 
nating sexton,  had  sagaciously  guessed  that  the  wind  was 
about  to  blow  from  another  quarter,  and  was  veering 
-around  also,  as  fast  as  he  deemed  it  prudent.  "  Ordinary 
pussons "  received  more  than  ordinary  attention,  and 
were  placed  within  ear-shot  of  the  speaker. 

But  the  problem  of  poor  Haldane' s  future  was  not 
clear  by  any  means.  It  is  true  a  desire  to  live  a  noble 
life  had  been  kindled  in  his  heart,  but  as  yet  it  was  but 
little  more  than  a  good  impulse,  an  aspiration.  In  the 
fact  that  his  eyes  had  been  turned  questioningly  and 
hopefully  toward  the  only  One  who  has  ever  been  able 
to  cope  with  the  mystery  of  evil,  there  was  rich  promise  ; 
but  just  what  this  divine  Friend  could  do  for  him  he 
understood  as  little  as  did  the  fishermen  of  Galilee. 
They  looked  for  temporal  change  and  glory  ;  he  was 
looking  for  some  vague  and  marvelous  change  and  ex- 
altation. 

But  the  Sabbath  passed,  and  he  remained  his  old  self. 
Hoping,  longing  for  the  change  did  not  produce  it. 

It  was  one  of  Mr.  Growther' s  peculiarities  to  have  a  fire 
iipon  the  hearth  even  when  the  evenings  were  so  warm  as 
not  to  require  it.  "Might  as  w^ft  kinder  git  ourselves 
used  to  heat,"  he  would  growLwhen  Haldane  remon- 
strated. ' 

After  the  evening  service  they  both  lowered  at  the  fire 
for  some  time  in  silence.  j|^ 

"Except  ye  be  converted,  and  become  as  little  chil- 
<dren,  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven," 
had  been  Dr.  Barstow's  text  ;  and,  as  is  usually  the  case, 
the  necessity  of  conversion  had  been  made  clearer  than 
just  what  conversion  is  ;  and  many  more  than  the  dis- 


FEEDING   AN  ANCIENT  GRUDGE.  285 

quieted  occupants  of  the  quaint  old  kitchen  had  been 
sent  home  sorely  perplexed  how  to  set  about  the  simple 
task  of  "believing."  But  it  was  a  happy  thing  for  all 
that  they  had  been  awakened  to  the  fact  that  something 
must  be  done.  After  that  sermon  none  could  delude 
themselves  with  the  hope  that  being  decorous,  well-dressed 
worshipers  at  St.  Paul's  would  be  all  that  was  required. 

But  Mr.  Growther  needed  no  argument  on  this  subject,, 
and  he  had  long  believed  that  his  only  chance  was,  as 
he  expressed  it,  "  such  an  out-and-out  shakin'  to  pieces,, 
and  makin'  over  agin  that  I  wouldn't  know  myself." 
Then  he  would  rub  his  rheumatic  legs  despondently  and 
add,  "  But  my  speretual  j'ints  have  got  as  stiff  and  dry 
as  these  old  walkin'  pins  ;  and  when  I  try  to  git  up  some 
good  sort  o'  feelin'  it's  like  pumpin'  of  a  dry  pump.  I 
only  feel  real  hearty  when  I'm  a  cussin'.     A-a-h  !  " 

But  the  day's  experience  and  teaching  had  awakened 
anew  in  his  breast,  as  truly  as  in  Haldane's,  the  wish- 
that  he  could  be  converted,  whatever  that  blessed  and 
mysterious  change  might  be  ;  and  so,  with  his  wrinkled 
face  seamed  with  deeper  and  more  complex  lines  thart 
usual,  the  poor  old  soul  stared  at  the  fire,  which  was  at 
once  the  chief  source  of  his  comfort  and  the  emblem  of 
that  which  he  most  dreaded.     At  last  he  snarled, 

"  I'm  a  blasted  old  fool  for  goin'  to  meetin'  and  gittin" 
all  riled  up  so.  Here,  I  haven't  had  a  comfortable  doze 
to-day,  and  I  shall  be  kickin'  around  all  night  with  notliin" 
runnin'  in  my  head  but  '  Except  ye  be  convarted,  except 
ye  be  convarted  ; '  I  wish  I  had  as  good  a  chance  of 
bein'  convarted  as  I  have  of  bein'  struck  by  lightnin'." 

"I  wish  I  needed  conversion  as  little  as  you,"  said 
Haldane  despondently. 

"  Now  look  here,"  snapped  the  old  man  :  "  I'm  in  no- 
mood  for  any  nonsense  to-night.  I  want  you  to  know  I 
never  have  been  convarted,  and  I  can  prove  it  to  you 
plaguy  quick  if  you  stroke  me  agin  the  fur.     You've  got 


284   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

the  advantage  of  me  in  this  business,  though  you  have 
■been  a  hard  cuss;  for  you  are  young  and  kind  o'  hmber 
yet."  Then,  as  he  glanced  at  the  discouraged  youth,  his 
manner  changed,  and  in  a  tone  that  was  meant  to  be 
kindly  he  added,  "There,  there  !  Why  don't  you  pluck 
up  heart  ?  If  I  was  as  young  as  you  be,  I'd  get  convarted 
if  it  took  me  all  summer." 

Haldane  shook  his  head,  and  after  a  moment  slowly 
and  musingly  said,  as  much  to  himself  as  to  the  giver  of 
this  good  advice, 

•'  I'm  in  the  Slough  of  Despond,  and  I  don't  know 
'how  to  get  out.  I  can  see  the  sunny  uplands  that  I  long 
to  reach,  but  every  thing  is  quaking  and  giving  way 
■under  my  feet.  After  listening  to  Dr.  Barstow's  grand 
sermon  this  morning,  my  spirit  flamed  up  hopefully. 
Now  he  has  placed  a  duty  directly  in  my  path  that  I 
cannot  perform  by  myself.  Mrs.  Arnot  has  made  it  clear 
to  me  that  the  manhood  I  need  is  Christian  manhood. 
Dr.  Barstow  proves  out  of  the  Bible  that  the  first  step 
toward  this  is  conversion, — which  seems  to  be  a  mysteri- 
ous change  which  I  but  vaguely  understand,  I  must  do 
my  part  myself,  he  says,  yet  I  am  wholly  dependent  on 
the  will  and  co-operation  of  another.  Just  what  am  I  to 
do  ?  Just  when  and  how  will  the  help  come  in  ?  How 
can  I  know  that  it  will  come  ?  or  how  can  I  ever  be  sure 
that  I  have  been  converted  ?  " 

"  O,  stop  splittin'  hairs!  "  said  Mr.  Growther,  testily. 
*•  Hanged  if  I  can  tell  you  how  it's  all  goin'  to  be  brought 
about, — go  ask  the  parson  to  clear  up  these  p'ints  for  you, 
— but  I  can  tell  you  this  much  :  when  you  git  convarted 
you'll  know  it.  If  you  had  a  ragin'  toothache,  and  it 
•suddenly  stopped  and  you  felt  comfortable  all  over, 
wouldn't  you  know  it  ?  But  that  don't  express  it.  You'd 
feel  more'n  comfortable  ;  you'd  feel  so  good  you  couldn't 
hold  in.  You'd  be  fur  shoutin'  ;  you  wouldn't  know 
yourself.     Why,  doesn't  the  Bible  say  you'd  be  a  new 


FEEDING  AN  ANCIENT  GRUDGE.  285 

critter?  There'll  be  just  such  a  change  in  your  heart  as 
there  is  in  this  old  kitchen  when  we  come  in  on  a  cold, 
dark  night  and  light  the  candles,  and  kindle  a  fire.  I 
tell  you  what  'tis,  young  man,  if  you  once  got  convarted 
your  troubles  would  be  w^ell-nigh  over." 

Though  the  picture  of  this  possible  future  was  drawi> 
in  such  homely  lines,  Haldane  looked  at  it  with  wistful 
eyes.  He  had  become  accustomed  to  his  benefactor's 
odd  ways  and  words,  and  caught  his  sense  beneath  the 
grotesque  imagery.  As  he  was  then  situated,  the  future 
drawn  by  the  old  man  and  interpreted  by  himself  was 
peculiarly  attractive.  He  was  very  miserable,  and  it  is 
most  natural,  especially  for  the  young,  to  wish  to  be 
happy.  He  had  been  led  to  believe  that  conversion 
would  lead  to  a  happiness  as  great  as  it  was  mysterious^ 
—  a  sort  of  miraculous  ecstasy,  that  would  render  him 
oblivious  of  the  hard  and  prosaic  conditions  of  his  lot. 
Through  misfortune  and  his  own  fault  he  possessed  a  very- 
defective  character.  This  character  had  been  formed, 
it  is  true,  by  years  of  self-indulgence  and  wrong,  and 
Mrs.  Arnot  had  asserted  that  reform  would  require  long,, 
patient,  and  heroic  effort.  Indeed,  she  had  suggested 
that  in  fighting  and  subduing  the  evils  of  one's  own  na- 
ture a  man  attained  the  noblest  degree  of  knighthood. 
He  had  already  learned  how  severe  was  the  conflict  in 
which  he  had  been  led  to  engage. 

But  might  not  this  mysterious  conversion  make  things 
infinitely  easier?  If  a  great  and  radical  change  were 
suddenly  wrought  in  his  moral  nature,  would  not  evil  ap- 
petites and  propensities  be  uprooted  like  vile  weeds?  If 
a  "  new  heart  "  were  given  him,  would  not  the  thoughts 
and  desires  flowing  from  it  be  like  pure  water  from  an 
unsullied  spring?  After  the  "old  things" — that  is  the 
evil — had  passed  away,  would  not  that  which  was  noble 
and  good  spring  up  naturally,  and  almost  spontaneously  ? 

This  was  Mr.  Growther's  view  ;  and  he  had  long  since 


286   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

learned  that  the  old  man's  opinions  were  sound  on  most 
questions.  This  seemed,  moreover,  the  teaching  of  the 
Bible  also,  and  of  such  sermons  as  he  could  recall.  And 
yet  it  caused  him  some  misgivings  that  Mrs.  Arnot  had 
not  indicated  more  clearly  this  short-cut  out  of  his  diffi- 
culties. 

But  Mr.  Growther's  theology  carried  the  day.  As  he 
^vatched  the  young  man's  thoughtful  face  he  thought  the 
occasion  ripe  for  the  "  word  in  season." 

"  Now  is  the  time,"  he  said  ;  "  now  while  yer  moral 
j'ints  is  hmber.  What's  the  use  of  climbin'  the  mountain 
on  your  hands  and  knees  when  you  can  go  up  in  a  char- 
iot of  fire,  if  you  can  only  git  in  it  ?  "  arid  he  talked  and 
urged  so  earnestly  that  Haldane  smiled  and  said, 

"  Mr.  Growther,  you  have  mistaken  your  vocation. 
You  ought  to  have  been  a  missionary  to  the  heathen." 

"  That  would  be  sendin'  a  thief  to  ketch  a  thief.  But 
you  know  I've  a  grudge  agin  the  devil,  if  I  do  belong  to 
him ;  and  if  I  could  help  git  you  out  of  his  clutches  it 
would  do  me  a  sight  o'  good." 

"  If  I  ever  do  get  out  I  shall  indeed  have  to  thank  you." 

"  I  don't  want  no  thanks,  and  don't  desarve  any. 
You're  only  giving  me  a  chance  to  hit  the  adversary 
'twixt  the  eyes,"  and  the  old  man  added  his  characteristic 
"'  A-a-h  !  "  in  an  emphatic  and  vengeful  manner,  as  if  he 
would  like  to  hit  very  hard. 

Human  nature  was  on  the  side  of  Mr.  Growther's  view 
of  conversion.  Nothing  is  more  common  than  the  delu- 
sive hope  that  health,  shattered  by  years  of  willful  wrong, 
can  be  regained  by  the  use  of  some  highly  extolled  drug, 
or  by  a  few  deep  draughts  from  some  far-famed  spring. 

Haldane  retired  to  rest  fully  bent  upon  securing  this 
vague  and  mighty  change  as  speedily  as  possible. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

HOPING    FOR   A    MIRACLE. 

Mr.  Ivison,  Haldane's  employer,  was  a  worshiper  at 
St.  Paul's,  and,  like  many  others,  had  been  deeply  im- 
pressed by  the  sermon.  Its  influence  had  not  wholly  ex- 
haled by  Monday,  and,  as  this  gentleman  was  eminently 
practical,  he  felt  that  he  ought  to  do  something,  as  well  as 
experience  a  httle  emotion.  Thus  he  was  led  to  address 
the  following  note  to  Haldane  : 

Last  week  I  gave  you  a  chance  ;  this  week  I  am  induced  to 
give  you  a  good  word.  While  I  warn  you  that  I  will  tolerate 
no  weak  dallying  with  your  old  temptations,  I  also  tell  you  that 
I  would  like  to  see  you  make  a  man  of  yourself,  or,  more  cor- 
rectly, perhaps,  as  Dr.  Barstow  would  express  it,  be  made  a 
man  of  If  one  wants  to  do  right,  I  believe  there  is  help  for 
him  (go  and  ask  tKe  Rev.  Dr.  Barstow  about  this) ;  and  if  you 
will  go  right  straight  ahead  till  I  see  you  can  be  depended 
upon,  I  will  continue  to  speak  good  words  to  you  and  for  you, 
and  perhaps  do  more.  George  Ivison. 

This  note  greatly  encouraged  Haldane,  and  made  his 
precarious  foot-hold  among  the  world's  industries  seem 
more  firm  and  certain.  The  danger  of  being  swept  back 
into  the  deep  water  where  those  struggle  who  have  no 
foot-hold,  no  work,  no  place  in  society  would  not  come 
from  the  caprice  or  forgetfulness  of  his  employer,  but 
from  his  own  peculiar  temptations  and  weaknesses.  If 
he  could  patiently  do  his  duty  in  his  present  humble  posi- 
tion, he  justly  believed  that  it  would  be  the  stepping-stone 
to  something  better.  But,  having  learned  to  know  him- 
self, he  was  afraid  of  himself  ;  and  he  had  seen  with  an 
infinite  dread  what  cold,  dark  depths  yawn  about  one 
whom  society  shakes  off  as  a  vile  and  venomous  thing, 
and  who  must  eventually  take  evil  and  its  consequences 
as  his  only  portion.  The  hot,  reeking  apartment  wherein 
he  toiled  was  the  first  solid  ground  that  he  had  felt  be- 

287 


288    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

neath  his  feet  for  many  days.  If  he  could  hold  that  foot- 
ing, the  water  might  shoal  so  that  he  could  reach  the 
land.  It  is  true  he  could  always  look  to  his  mother  for 
food  and  clothing  if  he  would  comply  with  her  conditions. 
But,  greatly  perverted  as  his  nature  had  been,  food  and 
clothing,  the  maintenance  of  a  merely  animal  life,  could  no 
longer  satisfy  him.  He  had  thought  too  deeply,  and  had 
seen  too  much  truth,  to  feed  contentedly  among  the  swine. 

But  the  temptations  which  eventually  lead  to  the  swine 
— could  he  persistently  resist  these  ?  Could  he  maintain 
a  hard,  monotonous  routine  of  toil,  with  no  excitements, 
no  pleasures,  with  nothing  that  even  approached  happi- 
ness ?  He  dared  not  give  way  ;  he  doubted  his  strength 
to  go  forward  alone  with  such  a  prospect.  If  conversion 
be  a  blessed  miracle  by  which  a  debased  nature  is  sud- 
denly Hfted  up,  and  a  harsh,  lead-colored,  prosaic  world 
transfigured  into  the  vestibule  of  heaven,  he  longed  to 
witness  it  in  his  o\^'n  experience. 

It  was  while  he  was  in  this  mood  that  his  thoughts  re- 
curred to  Dr.  Marks,  the  good  old  clergyman  who  had 
been  the  subject  of  his  rude,  practical  joke  months  before. 
He  recalled  the  sincere,  frank  letter  which  led  to  their 
evening  interview,  and  remembered  with  a  thrill  of  hope 
the  strong  and  mysterious  emotion  that  had  seized  upon 
him  as  the  venerable  man  took  his  hand  in  his  warm 
grasp,  and  said  in  tones  of  pathos  that  shook  his  soul,  "  I 
wish  I  could  lead  you  by  loving  force  into  the  paths  of 
pleasantness  and  peace."  Wild  and  reckless  fool  as  he 
then  was,  it  had  been  only  by  a  decided  effort  and  abrupt 
departure  that  he  had  escaped  the  heavenly  influences 
which  seemed  to  brood  in  the  quiet  study  where  the  good 
man  prayed  and  spun  the  meshes  of  the  nets  which  he 
daily  cast  for  souls.  If  he  could  visit  that  study  again 
with  a  receptive  heart,  might  not  the  emotion  that  he  had 
formerly  resisted  rise  like  a  flood,  and  sweep  away  his  old 
miserable  self,  and  he  become  in  truth  a  "  new  creature  "  ? 


HOPING   FOR   A   MIRACLE.  289 

The  thought,  having  been  once  entertained,  speedily 
grew  into  a  hope,  and  then  became  almost  a  certainty. 
He  felt  that  he  would  much  rather  see  Dr.  Marks  than 
Dr,  Barstow,  and  that  if  he  could  feel  that  kind,  warm 
grasp  again,  an  impulse  might  be  given  him  which  even 
Mrs.  Arnot's  wise  and  gentle  words  could  not  inspire. 

Before  the  week  was  over,  he  felt  that  something  must 
be  done  either  to  soften  his  hard  lot  or  to  give  him 
strength  to  endure  it. 

The  men,  boys,  and  girls  who  worked  at  his  side  in  the 
mill  were  in  their  natures  like  their  garb,  coarse  and 
soiled.  They  resented  the  presence  of  Haldane  for  a 
twofold  reason;  they  regarded  the  intrusion  of  a  "jail- 
bird" among  them  in  the  light  of  an  insult  ;  they  were 
still  more  annoyed,  and  perplexed  also,  that  this  disrepu- 
table character  made  them  feel  that  he  was  their  superior. 
Hence  a  system  of  petty  persecution  grew  up.  Epithets 
were  flung  at  him,  and  practical  jokes  played  upon  him 
till  his  heart  boiled  with  anger  or  his  nerves  were  irritated 
to  the  last  degree  of  endurance.  More  than  once  his  fist 
was  clenched  to  strike  ;  but  he  remembered  in  time  that 
the  heavier  the  blow  he  struck,  the  more  disastrously  it 
would  react  against  himself. 

After  the  exasperating  experiences  and  noise  of  the 
day,  Mr.  Growther's  cottage  was  not  the  quiet  refuge  he 
needed.  Mr,  Growther's  growl  was  chronic,  and  it 
rasped  on  Haldane's  overstrained  nerves  hke  the  filing  of 
a  saw.  Dr,  Barstow's  sermons  of  the  previous  Sabbath 
had  emphatically  "riled"  the  old  gentleman,  and  their 
only  result,  apparently,  was  to  make  him  more  out-of- 
sorts  and  vindictive  toward  his  poor,  miserable  little  self 
than  ever.  He  was  so  irascibls  that  even  the  comfort- 
able cat  and  dog  became  aware  that  something  unusual 
was  amiss,  and,  instead  of  dozing  securely,  they  learned 
to  keep  a  wary  and  deprecatory  eye  on  their  master  and 
the  toes  of  his  thick-soled  slippers. 


290   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY^ 

"  I've  been  goin'  on  like  a  darned  old  porkerpine,"  he 
said  to  Haldane  one  evening,  "  and  if  you  don't  git  con- 
varted  soon  you'd  better  git  out  of  my  way.  If  you  was 
as  meek  as  Moses  and  twice  as  good  you  couldn't  stand 
me  much  longer;"  and  the  poor  fellow  felt  that  there 
was  considerable  truth  in  the  remark. 

The  mill  closed  at  an  earlier  hour  on  Saturday  after- 
noon, and  he  determined  to  visit  Dr.  Marks  if  he  could 
obtain  permission  from  his  employer  to  be  absent  a  few 
hours  on  Monday  morning.  He  wrote  a  note  to  Mr. 
Ivison,  cordially  thanking  him  for  his  encouraging  words,, 
but  adding,  frankly,  that  he  could  make  no  promises  in 
regard  to  himself.  "  All  that  I  can  say,  is,"  he  wrote^ 
"  that  I  am  trying  to  do  right  now,  and  that  I  am  grate- 
ful to  you  for  the  chance  you  have  given  me.  I  wish  to 
get  the  'help'  you  suggest  in  your  note  to  me,  but,  in 
memory  of  certain  relations  to  my  old  pastor,  Dr.  Marks» 
I  would  rather  see  him  than  Dr.  Barstow,  and  if  you  will 
permit  me  to  be  absent  a  part  of  next  Monday  forenoon 
I  will  esteem  it  a  great  favor,  and  will  trespass  on  your 
kindness  no  further.  I  can  go  after  mill-hours  on  Satur- 
day, and  will  return  by  the  first  train  on  Monday." 

Mr.  Ivison  readily  granted  the  request,  and  even  be- 
came somewhat  curious  as  to  the  result. 

When  Mrs.  Arnot  had  learned  from  Haldane  the  na- 
ture of  his  present  employment,  she  had  experienced 
both  pleasure  and  misgivings.  That  he  was  willing  to 
take  and  try  to  do  such  work  rather  than  remain  idle,  or 
take  what  he  felt  would  be  charity,  proved  that  there  was 
more  good  metal  in  his  composition  than  she  had  even 
hoped  ;  but  she  naturally  felt  that  the  stinging  annoy- 
ances of  his  position  would  soon  become  intolerable.  She 
was  not  surprised,  although  she  was  somewhat  perplexed, 
at  the  receipt  of  the  following  letter  : 

My  dear  Mrs.  Arnot  : — You  have  been  such  a  true,  kind 
friend  to  me,  and  have  shown  so  much  interest  in  my  welfare, 


HOPING  FOR   A   MIRACLE.  291 

that  I  am  led  to  give  you  a  fuller  insight  into  my  present  ex- 
periences and  hopes.  You  know  that  I  wish  to  be  a  Christian. 
You  have  made  Christian  manhood  seem  the  most  desirable 
thing  that  I  can  ever  possess,  but  I  make  little  or  no  progress 
toward  it.  Something  must  be  done,  and  quickly  too.  Either 
there  must  be  a  great  change  in  me,  or  else  in  my  circum- 
stances. As  there  is  no  immediate  prospect  of  the  latter,  I  have 
been  led  to  hope  that  there  can  be  such  a  change  in  me  that  I 
shall  be  lifted  above  and  made  superior  to  the  exasperating  an- 
noyances of  my  condition.  Yes,  I  am  hoping  even  far  more. 
If  I  could  only  experience  the  marvelous  change  which  Dr. 
Barstow  described  so  eloquently  last  Sunday  evening,  might  I 
tiot  do  right  easily  and  almost  spontaneously  ?  It  is  so  desper- 
ately hard  to  do  right  now !  If  conversion  will  render  my 
steep,  thorny  path  infinitely  easier,  then  surely  I  ought  to  seek 
this  change  by  every  means  in  my  power.  Indeed,  there  must 
be  a  change  in  me,  or  I  shall  lose  even  the  foot-hold  I  have 
gained.  I  am  subjected,  all  day  long,  to  insult  and  annoyance. 
At  times  I  am  almost  desperate  and  on  the  verge  of  reckless- 
ness. Every  one  of  the  coarse  creatures  that  I  am  compelled 
to  work  with  is  a  nettle  that  loses  no  chance  to  sting  me ;  and 
there  is  one  among  them,  a  big,  burly  fellow,  who  is  so  offen- 
sive that  I  cannot  keep  my  hands  off  him  much  longer  if  I  re- 
main my  old  self.  You  also  know  what  a  reception  I  must  ever 
expect  in  the  streets  when  I  am  recognized.  The  people  act  as 
if  I  were  some  sort  of  a  reptile,  which  they  must  tolerate  at 
large,  but  can,  at  least,  shun  with  looks  of  aversion.  And  then, 
when  I  get  to  Mr.  Growther's  cottage  I  do  not  find  much  res- 
pite. It  seems  like  ingratitude  to  write  this,  but  the  good  old 
man's  eccentric  habit  of  berating  himself  and  the  world  in  gen- 
eral has  grown  wearisome,  to  say  the  least.  I  want  to  be  lifted 
■cut  of  myself, — far  above  these  petty  vexations  and  my  own 
miserable  weaknesses. 

Once,  before  I  left  home,  I  played  a  rude  joke  on  our  good 
old  pastor.  Instead  of  resenting  it  he  wrote  me  such  a  kind 
letter  that  I  went  to  his  study  to  apologize.  While  there  his 
manner  and  words  were  such  that  I  had  to  break  away  to  es- 
cape a  sudden  and  mysterious  influence  that  inclined  me  toward 
all  that  is  good.  I  have  hoped  that  if  I  should  visit  him  I 
might  come  under  that  influence  again,  and  so  be  made  a  new 
and  better  man. 

I  have  also  another  motive,  which  you  will  understand. 
Mother  and  I  differ  widely  on  many  things,  and  always  will  ; 
but  I  long  to  see  her  once  more.  I  have  been  thinking  of  late 
of  her  many  kindnesses — O  that  she  had  been  less  kind,  less 
indulgent !      But  she  cannot  help  the  past  any  more  than  I  can. 


292   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  it  may  do  us  both  good  to  meet  once  more.  I  do  not  think 
that  she  will  refuse  to  see  me  or  give  me  shelter  for  a  few 
hours,  even  though  her  last  letter  seemed  harsh. 

I  shall  also  be  glad  to  escape  for  a  few  hours  from  my  squalid 
and  wretched  surroundings.  The  grime  of  the  sordid  things 
with  which  I  have  so  long  been  in  contact  seems  eating  into 
my  very  soul,  and  I  long  to  sleep  once  more  m  my  clean,  airy 
room  at  home. 

But  I  am  inflicting  myself  too  long  upon  you.  Tliat  I  have 
ventured  to  do  so  is  due  to  your  past  kindness,  which  I  can 
only  wonder  at,  but  cannot  explain.     Gratefully  yours, 

E.  Haldane. 

Mrs,  Arnot  was  more  than  curious  ;  she  was  deeply 
interested  in  the  result  of  this  visit,  and  she  hoped  and 
prayed  earnestly  that  it  might  result  in  good.  But  she 
had  detected  an  element  in  the  young  man's  letter  which 
caused  her  considerable  uneasiness.  His  idea  of  con- 
version was  a  sudden  and  radical  change  in  character 
that  would  be  a  sort  of  spiritual  magic,  contravening  all 
the  natural  laws  of  growth  and  development.  He  was 
hoping  to  escape  from  his  evil  habits  and  weaknesses, 
which  were  of  long  growth,  as  the  leper  escaped  from  his 
disease,  by  a  healing  and  momentary  touch.  He  would 
surely  be  disappointed  :  might  he  not  also  be  discour- 
aged, and  give  up  the  patient  and  prayerful  struggle 
which  the  sinful  must  ever  wage  against  sin  in  this  world  ' 
She  trusted,  however,  that  God  had  commenced  a  good 
work  in  his  heart,  and  would  finish  it. 

Even  the  sight  of  his  native  city,  with  its  spires  glisten- 
ing in  the  setting  sun,  moved  Haldane  deeply  ;  and  when 
in  the  dusk  he  left  the  train,  and  walked  once  more 
through  the  familiar  streets,  his  heart  was  crowded  with 
pleasant  and  bitter  memories,  which  naturally  produced 
a  softened  and  receptive  mood. 

He   saw  many   well-remembered    faces,    and    a    few 

U  glanced  at  him  as  if  he  suggested  one  whom  they  had 

known.     But  he  kept  his  hat  drawn  over  his  eyes,  and, 

taking  advantage  of  the  obscurity  of  the  night,  escaped 

recognition. 


HOPING   FOR  A   MIRACLE.  293 

"  It  is  almost  like  coming  back  after  one  has  died,"  he 
said  to  himself.  "1  once  thought  myself  an  important 
personage  in  this  town,  but  it  has  got  on  better  without 
me  than  it  would  have  done  with  me.  Truly,  Mrs.  Ar- 
not  is  right, — it's  little  the  world  cares  for  any  one,  and 
the  absurdest  of  all  blunders  is  to  live  for  its  favor." 

It  was  with  a  quickly  beating  heart  that  he  rang  the 
bell  at  the  parsonage,  and  requested  to  be  shown  up  to 
Dr.  Marks'  study.  Was  this  the  supreme  moment  of  his 
life,  and  he  on  the  eve  of  that  mysterious,  spiritual 
change,  of  which  he  had  heard  so  much,  and  the  results 
of  which  would  carry  him  along  as  by  a  steady,  mighty 
impulse  through  earth's  trials  to  heaven's  glory?  He 
fairly  trembled  at  the  thought. 

The  girl  who  had  admitted  him  pointed  to  the  open 
study  door,  and  he  silently  crossed  its  threshold.  The 
good  old  clergyman  was  bending  over  his  sermon,  to 
which  he  was  giving  his  finishing  touches,  and  the  soft 
rays  of  the  student's  lamp  made  his  white  hair  seem  like 
a  halo  about  his  head. 

The  sacred  quiet  of  the  place  was  disturbed  only  by 
the  quill  of  the  writer,  who  was  penning  words  as  un- 
worldly^as  himself.  Another  good  old  divine,  with  his 
Bible  in  his  hand,  looked  down  benignantly  and  en- 
couragingly at  the  young  man  from  his  black-walnut 
frame.  He  was  the  sainted  predecessor  of  Dr.  Marks, 
and  the  sanctity  of  his  life  of  prayer  and  holy  toil  also 
lingered  in  this  study.  Old  volumes  and  heavy  tomes 
gave  to  it  the  peculiar  odor  which  we  associate  with  the 
cloister,  and  suggested  the  prolonged  spiritual  musings  of 
the  past,  which  are  so  out  of  vogue  in  the  hurried, 
pracdcal  world  of  to-day.  This  study  was,  indeed,  a 
quiet  nook, — a  little,  slowly  moving  eddy  left  far  behind 
by  the  dashing,  foaming  current  of  modern  life  ;  and 
Haldane  felt  impressed  that  he  had  found  the  hallowed 
place,  the  true  Bethel,  where  his  soul  might  be  born  anew. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIIL 

THE  MIRACLE  TAKES  PLACE. 

"The  body  of  my  sermon  is  finished  ;  may  the  Lord 
breathe  into  it  the  breath  of  Hfe  !  "  ejaculated  Ur,  Marks, 
leaning  back  in  his  chair. 

Haldane  now  secured  his  attention  by  knocking  lightly 
on  the  open  door.  The  old  gentleman  arose  and  came 
forward  with  the  ordinary  kindly  manner  with  which  he 
would  greet  a  stranger. 

"  You  do  not  remember  me,"  said  Haldane. 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  do.  My  eyesight  is  not  as  good 
as  when  I  was  at  your  age." 

"  I  am  also  the  last  one  you  expect  to  see,  but  I  trust 
I  shall  not  be  unwelcome  when  you  know  my  motive  for 
coming.  I  am  Egbert  Haldane,  and  I  have  hoped  that 
your  study  would  remain  open,  though  nearly  all  respect- 
able doors  are  closed  against  me." 

"Egbert  Haldane!  Can  I  believe  my  eyes?"  ex- 
claimed the  old  clergyman,  stepping  eagerly  forward. 

"When  last  in  this  place,"  continued  the  youth,  "T 
was  led  by  your  generous  forgiveness  of  my  rude  be- 
havior toward  you  to  say,  that  if  I  ever  wished  to  be- 
come a  Christian  I  would  come  to  you  sooner  than  to 
any  one  else.     I  have  come,  for  I  wish  to  be  a  Christian.'* 

"  Now  the  Lord  be  praised  !  He  has  heard  His  serv- 
ant's prayers,"  responded  Dr.  Marks  fervently.  "My 
study  is  open  to  you,  my  son,  and  my  heart,  too,"  he 
added,  taking  Haldane's  hand  in  both  of  his  with  a  grasp 
that  emphasized  his  cordial  words.  "  Sit  down  by  me 
here,  and  tell  me  all  that  is  on  your  mind." 

This  reception  was  so  much  kinder  than  he  had  even 

294 


THE  MIRACLE   TAKES  PLACE.  295 

hoped,  that  Haldane  was  deeply  moved.  The  strong, 
genuine  sympathy  unsealed  his  lips,  and  in  honest  and 
impetuous  words  he  told  the  whole  story  of  his  life  since 
their  last  interview.  The  good  doctor  was  soon  fumbling 
for  his  handkerchief,  and  as  the  story  culminated, 
mopped  his  eyes,  and  ejaculated,  "  Poor  fellow  !  "  with 
increasing  frequency. 

"And  now,"  concluded  Haldane,  "if  I  could  only 
think  that  God  would  receive  me  as  you  have, — if  He 
would  only  change  me  from  my  miserable  self  to  what  I 
know  I  ought  to  be,  and  long  to  be, — I  feel  that  I  could 
serve  Him  with  gratitude  and  gladness  the  rest  of  my  life, 
even  though  I  should  remain  in  the  humblest  station  ; 
and  I  have  come  to  ask  you  what  I  am  to  do?  " 

"  He  will  receive  you,  my  boy  ;  He  will  receive  you. 
No  fears  on  that  score,"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  hearti- 
ness that  carried  conviction.  "But  don't  ask  me  what 
to  do.  I'm  not  going  to  interfere  in  the  Lord's  work. 
He  is  leading  you.  If  you  wanted  a  text  or  a  doctrine 
explained  I'd  venture  to  give  you  my  views  :  but  in  this 
vital  matter  I  shall  leave  you  in  God's  hands,  'being 
confident  of  this  very  thing,  that  He  which  hath  begun  a 
good  work  in  you  will  perform  it  until  the  day  of  Jesus 
Christ,'  I  once  set  about  reforming  you  myself,  and  you 
know  what  a  bungle  I  made  of  it.  Now  I  believe  the 
Lord  has  taken  you  in  hand,  and  I  shall  not  presume  to 
meddle.  Bow  with  me  in  prayer  that  He  may  speedily 
bring  you  into  His  marvelous  light  and  knowledge." 
And  the  good  man  knelt  and  spread  his  hands  toward 
heaven,  and  prayed  with  the  simplicity  and  undoubting 
faith  of  an  ancient  patriarch. 

Was  his  faith  contagious  ?  Did  the  pathos  of  his  voice, 
his  strongly  manifested  sympathy,  combine  with  all  that 
had  gone  before  to  melt  the  young  man's  heart  ?  Or,  in 
answer  to  the  prayer,  was  there  present  One  whose 
province  it  is  to  give  life  ?     Like  the  wind  that  mysteri- 


296   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ously  rises  and  comes  toward  one  with  its  viewless,  yet 
distinctly  felt  power,  Haldane  was  conscious  of  influences 
at  work  in  his  heart  that  were  as  potent  as  tiiey  were  in- 
comprehensible. Fear  and  doubt  were  passing  away. 
Deep  emotion  thrilled  his  soul.  Nothing  was  distinct 
save  a  rush  of  feeling  which  seemed  to  lift  him  up  as  on 
a  mighty  tide,  and  bear  him  heavenward. 

This  was  what  he  had  sought  ;  this  was  what  he  had 
hoped  ;  this  strong,  joyous  feeling,  welling  up  in  his  heart 
like  a  spring  leaping  into  the  sunlight,  must  be  conversion. 

When  he  arose  from  his  knees  his  eyes  were  full  of 
tears,  but  a  glad  radiance  shone  through  them,  and, 
grasping  the  doctor's  hand,  he  said  brokenly, 

"  I  beheve  your  prayer  has  been  answered.  I  never 
felt  so  strangely — so  happy  before." 

"Come  with  me,"  cried  the  old  man,  impetuously, 
"come  with  me.  Your  mother  must  learn  at  once  that 
her  son,  who  'was  dead,  is  alive  again;'  "  and  a  few 
moments  later  Haldane  was  once  more  in  the  low  carriage, 
on  his  way,  with  the  enthusiastic  doctor,  to  his  old  home. 

"We  won't  permit  ourselves  to  be  announced,"  said 
the  childhke  old  clergyman  as  they  drove  up  the  graveled 
road.  "  We  will  descend  upon  your  mother  and  sisters 
like  an  avalanche  of  happiness." 

The  curtains  in  the  sitting-room  were  not  drawn,  and 
the  family  group  was  before  them.  The  apartment  was 
furnished  with  elegance  and  taste,  but  the  very  genius  of 
dreariness  seemed  to  brood  over  its  occupants.  The 
somber  colors  of  their  mourning  dresses  seemed  a  part  of 
the  deep  shadow  that  was  resting  upon  them,  and  the 
depth  and  gloom  of  the  shadow  was  intensified  by  their 
air  of  despondency  and  the  pallor  of  their  faces.  The 
younger  daughter  was  reading,  but  the  elder  and  the 
mother  held  their  hands  listlessly  in  their  laps,  and  their 
eyes  were  fixed  on  vacancy,  after  the  manner  of  those 
whose  thoughts  are  busy  with  painful  themes. 


THE  3IIEACLE   TAKES  PLACE.  297 

Haldane  could  endure  but  a  brief  glance,  and  rushed 
;n,  exclaiming, 

"  Mother,  forgive  me  !  " 

His  presence  was  so  unexpected  and  his  onset  so  im- 
petuous that  the  widow  had  no  time  to  consider  what 
kind  of  a  reception  she  ought  to  give  her  wayward  son^ 
of  whom  she  had  washed  her  hands. 

Her  mother-love  triumphed  ;  her  heart  had  long  been 
sore  with  grief,  and  she  returned  his  embrace  with  equal 
heartiness. 

His  sisters,  however,  had  inherited  more  of  their 
mother's  conventionality  than  of  her  heart  ;  and  the  fact 
that  this  young  man  was  their  brother  did  not  by  any 
means  obhterate  from  their  minds  the  other  facts,  that  he 
had  a  very  bad  reputation  and  that  he  was  abominably- 
dressed.  Their  greeting,  therefore,  was  rather  grave  and 
constrained,  and  suggested  that  there  might  have  been  a 
death  in  the  family,  and  that  their  brother  had  come 
home  to  attend  the  funeral. 

But  the  unworldly  Dr.  Marks  was  wholly  absorbed  in 
the  blessed  truth  that  the  dead  was  alive  and  the  lost 
found.  He  had  followed  Haldane  into  the  apartment^ 
rubbing  his  hands,  and  beaming  general  congratulation. 
Believing  that  the  serene  light  of  Heaven's  favor  rested 
on  the  youth,  he  had  forgotten  that  it  would  be  long  be- 
fore society  relaxed  its  dark  frown.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  it  was  an  occasion  for  great  and  unmixed  rejoic- 
ing. 

After  some  brief  explanations  had  been  given  to  the  be- 
wildered household,  the  doctor  said  : 

"My  dear  madam,  I  could  not  deny  myself  the  pleas- 
ure of  coming  with  your  son,  that  I  might  rejoice  with 
you.  The  Lord  has  answered  our  prayers,  you  see,  and 
you  have  reason  to  be  the  happiest  woman  living." 

"I  am  glad,  indeed,"  sighed  the  widow,  "that  some 
light  is  beginning  to  shine  through  this  dark  and  myste- 


298  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

rious  providence,  for  it  has  been  so  utterly  dark  and  full 
of  mystery  that  my  faith  was  beginning  to  waver." 

"The  Lord  will  not  suffer  you  to  be  tempted  above 
that  you  are  able,"  said  the  clergyman,  heartily.  "  When 
relief  is  essential  it  comes,  and  it  always  will  come,  rest 
iissured.  Take  comfort,  madam  ;  nay,  let  your  heart 
overflow  with  joy  without  fear.  The  Lord  means  well  by 
this  young  man.  Take  the  unspeakable  blessing  He 
sends  you  with  the  gladness  and  gratitude  of  a  child  re- 
ceiving gifts  from  a  good  Father's  hands.  Since  He  has 
begun  the  good  work.  He'll  finish  it." 

*•  I  hope  so.  I  do,  indeed,  hope  that  Egbert  will  now 
come  to  his  senses,  and  see  things  and  duty  in  their  true 
light,  as  other  people  do,"  ejaculated  the  widow,  fer- 
vently. "  If  he  had  only  taken  the  excellent  advice  you 
first  gave  him  here,  how  much  better  it  would  have  been  for 
us  all !     But  now — "     A  dreary  sigh  closed  the  sentence. 

"  But  now,"  responded  the  doctor,  a  little  warmly, 
•"  the  Lord  has  saved  a  soul  from  death,  and  that  soul  is 
your  only  son.  It  appears  to  me  that  this  thought  should 
swallow  up  every  other  ;  and  it  will,  when  you  realize  it," 
he  concluded,  heartily.  "This  world  and  the  fashion 
of  it  passeth  away.  Since  all  promises  well  for  the  world 
to  come,  you  have  only  cause  for  joy.  As  for  my  excel- 
lent advice,  I  was*  better  pleased  with  it  at  the  time  than 
the  Lord  was.  I  now  am  thankful  that  He  let  it  do  no 
more  harm  than  it  did." 

"We  cannot  help  the  past,  mother,"  said  Haldane, 
•eagerly,  "  let  us  turn  our  eyes  to  the  future,  w^hich  is  all 
aglow  with  hope.  I  feel  that  God  has  forgiven  me,  and 
the  thought  fills  my  heart  with  a  tumult  of  joy.  Your 
warm  embrace  assures  me  that  you  have  also  forgiven 
the  wrong,  the  shame,  and  sorrow  you  have  received  at 
my  hands.  Henceforth  it  shall  be  my  life-effort  that  you 
receive  the  reverse  of  all  this.  I  at  last  feel  within  n>e 
the  power  to  live  as  a  true  man  ought." 


THE  BUR  A  CLE   TAKES  PLACE.  299 

"  I  trust  your  hopes  may  be  realized,  Egbert  ;  I  do, 
indeed  ;  but  you  were  so  confident  before — and  then  we 
all  know  what  followed,"  concluded  his  mother,  with  a 
shudder. 

"  My  present  feeling,  my  present  motives,  in  no  re- 
spect resemble  my  condition  when  I  started  out  before. 
I  was  then  a  conceited  fool,  ignorant  of  myself,  the 
world,  and  the  task  I  had  attempted.  But  now  I  feel 
that  all  is  different.  Mother,"  he  exclaimed  with  a 
rush  of  emotion,  "  I  feel  as  if  heaven  had  almost  begun 
in  my  heart!  why,  then,  do  you  cloud  this  bright  hour 
with  doubts  and  fears?  " 

"Well,  my  son,  we  will  hope  for  the  best,"  said  his 
mother,  endeavoring  to  throw  off  her  despondency,  and 
share  in  the  spirit  which  animated  her  pastor.  "  But  I 
have  dwelt  so  long  in  sorrow  and  foreboding  that  it  will 
require  time  before  I  can  recover  my  old  natural  tone. 
These  sudden  and  strong  alternations  of  feeling  and  ac- 
tion on  your  part  puzzle  and  disquiet  me,  and  I  cannot 
see  why  one  brought  up  as  you  have  been  should  not 
maintain  a  quiet,  well-bred  deportment,  and  do  right  as 
a  matter  of  course,  as  your  sisters  do.  And  yet,  if  Dr. 
Marks  truly  thinks  that  you  mean  to  do  right  from  this 
time  forward,  1  shall  certainly  take  courage  ;  though  how 
we  are  going  to  meet  what  has  already  occurred  1  hardly 
see." 

"  1  do,  indeed,  believe  that  your  son  intends  to  do- 
right,  and  I  also  believe  that  the  Lord  intends  to  help 
him — which  is  of  far  greater  consequence,"  said  Dr. 
Marks.  "  I  will  now  bid  you  good  night,  as  to-morrow 
is  the  Sabbath  ;  and  let  me  entreat  you,  my  dear  madam, 
in  parting,  to  further  by  your  prayer  and  sympathy  the 
good  work  which  the  Lord  has  begun," 

Haldane  insisted  on  seeing  the  old  gentleman  safely 
back  to  his  study.  Their  ride  was  a  rather  quiet  one^ 
each  being  busy  with  his  own  thoughts.     The  good  man 


300   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

had  found  his  enthusiasm  strangely  quenched  in  the  at- 
mosphere in  which  Mrs.  Haldane  dwelt,  and  found  that, 
in  spite  of  himself,  he  was  sharing  in  her  doubts  and 
fears  as  to  the  future  course  of  the  erratic  and  impulsive 
youth  at  his  side.  He  blamed  himself  for  this,  and  tried 
to  put  doubt  resolutely  away.  By  a  few  earnest  words 
lie  sought  to  show  the  young  man  that  only  as  the  grace 
of  God  was  daily  asked  for  and  daily  received  could  he 
hope  to  maintain  the  Christian  life. 

He  now  began  to  realize  what  a.  difficult  problem  was 
before  the  youth.  Society  would  be  slow  to  give  him 
credit  for  changed  motives  and  character,  and  as  proof 
would  take  only  patient  continuance  in  well-doing.  The 
good  doctor  now  more  than  suspected  that  in  his  own 
home  Haldane  would  find  much  that  was  depressing  and 
enervating.  Worse  than  all  he  would  have  to  contend 
■with  an  excitable  and  ungoverned  nature,  already  sadly 
warped  and  biased  wrongly.  "  What  will  be  the  final 
result?"  sighed  the  old  gentleman  to  himself.  But  he 
soon  fell  back  hopefully  on  his  belief  that  the  Lord  had 
begun  a  good  work  and  would  finish  it. 

Haldane  listened  attentively  and  gratefully  to  all  that 
his  old  friend  had  to  say,  and  felt  sure  that  he  could  and 
would  follow  the  advice  given.  Never  before  had  right 
hving  seemed  so  attractive,  and  the  path  of  duty  so 
luminous.  But  the  thought  that  chiefly  filled  him  with 
joy  was  that  henceforth  he  would  not  be  compelled  to 
plod  forward  as  a  weary  pilgrim.  He  felt  that  he  had 
wings ;  some  of  the  divine  strength  had  been  given  him. 
He  believed  himself  changed,  renewed,  transformed  ;  he 
was  confident  that  his  old  self  had  perished  and  passed 
away,  and  that,  as  a  new  creature,  ennobling  tendencies 
would  control  him  completely.  He  felt  that  prayer  would 
henceforth  be  as  natural  as  breathing,  and  praise  and 
worship,  the  strong  and  abiding  instincts  of  his  heart. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

VOTARIES   OF   THE   WORLD. 

When  Haldane  returned  he  found  that  his  sisters  had 
retired.  He  was  not  sorry,  for  he  wished  a  long  and  un- 
restrained talk  with  his  mother  ;  but  that  lady  pleaded 
that  the  events  of  the  evening  had  so  unnerved  her,  and 
that  there  was  so  much  to  be  considered,  that  she  must 
have  quiet.  In  the  morning  they  would  try  to  realize 
their  situation,  and  decide  upon  the  best  course  to  be 
pursued. 

Even  in  his  exaltation  the  last  suggestion  struck  Hal- 
dane unpleasantly.  Might  not  his  mother  mark  out,  and 
take  as  a  test  of  his  sincerity,  some  course  that  would  ac- 
cord with  her  ideas  of  right,  but  not  with  his?  But  the 
present  hour  was  so  full  of  mystical  and  inexplicable 
happiness  that  he  gave  himself  up  to  it,  believing  that  the 
divine  hands,  in  which  he  believed  himself  to  be,  would 
provide  for  him  as  a  helpless  child  is  cared  for. 

The  mill-people  among  whom  he  had  worked  the 
previous  week  would  scarcely  have  recognized  him  as  he 
came  down  to  breakfast  the  following  morning,  dressed 
with  taste  and  elegance.  It  was  evident  that  his  sisters 
could  endure  him  with  better  grace  than  when  clad  in 
his  coarse,  working  garb,  redolent  with  the  hitherto  un- 
imagined  odors  pertaining  to  well-oiled  machinery. 
They,  with  his  mother,  greeted  him,  however,  with  the 
air  of  those  who  are  in  the  midst  of  the  greatest  misfor- 
tunes, but  who  hope  they  see  a  coming  ray  of  light. 

With  their  sincere  but  conventional  ideas  of  life  he  was, 
in  truth,  a  difficult  problem.  Nor  can  they  be  very  greatly 
blamed.     This  youth,  who  might  have  been  their  natural 

301 


302   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

t 
protector  against  every  scandalous  and  contemptuous 
word,  and  whose  arm  it  would  have  been  their  pride  to 
take  before  the  world,  had  now  such  a  reputation  that 
only  an  affection  all-absorbing  and  unselfish  would  be 
willing  to  brave  the  curious  and  scornful  stare  that  fol- 
lows one  who  had  been  so  disgraced.  Mrs.  Haldane 
and  her  daughters  were  not  without  natural  affection,  but 
they  were  morbidly  sensitive  to  public  opinion.  Like 
many  who  live  somewhat  secluded  from  the  world,  they 
imagined  that  vague  and  dreaded  entity  was  giving  them 
much  more  attention  than  it  did.  "What  will  people 
say?"  was  a  terrible  question  to  them. 

Nothing  could  be  farther  from  their  nature  than  an  at- 
tempt to  attract  the  world's  attention  by  loud  manners  or 
flaunting  dress  ;  but  it  was  essential  to  their  peace  that 
good  society  should  regard  them  as  eminently  respectable, 
aristocratic,  and  high-toned — as  a  family  far  removed 
from  vulgar  and  ordinary  humanity.  That  their  name, 
in  the  person  of  a  son  and  brother,  had  been  dragged 
through  courts,  criminal  records,  and  jails,  was  an  un- 
paralleled disaster,  that  grew  more  overwhelming  as  they 
brooded  over  it.  It  seemed  to  them  that  the  world's 
great  eye  was  turned  full  upon  them  in  scorn  and  wonder, 
and  that  only  by  maintaining  their  perfect  seclusion,  or 
by  hiding  among  strangers,  could  they  escape  its  cruel 
glare. 

After  all,  their  feehngs  were  only  morbid  developments 
of  the  instincts  of  a  refined  womanly  nature  ;  but  the 
trouble  was,  they  had  not  the  womanly  largeness  of  heart 
and  affection  which  would  have  made  them  equal  to  the 
emergency,  however  painful.  Poor  Mrs.  Haldane  was 
one  of  those  unfortunate  people  who  always  fall  below 
the  occasion  ;  indeed,  she  seldom  realized  it.  Providence 
had  now  given  her  a  chance  to  atone  for  much  of  her 
former  weakness  and  ruinous  indulgence,  but  her  little 
mind  was  chiefly  engrossed  with  the  question,  What  can 


VOTARIES   OF  THE    WORLD.  303 

we  do  to  smooth  matters  over,  and  regain  something  like 
our  old  standing  in  society  ?  As  the  result  of  a  long  con- 
sultation with  her  daughters,  it  was  concluded  that  their 
best  course  was  to  go  abroad.  There  they  could  venture 
■out  with  him  who  was  the  skeleton  of  the  household, 
without  having  every  one  turn  and  look  after  them  with 
all  kinds  of  comment  upon  their  hps.  After  several  years 
in  Europe  they  hoped  society  would  be  inclined  to  forget 
and  overlook  the  miserable  record  of  the  past  few  months. 

That  the  young  man  himself  would  offer  opposition  to 
the  plan,  and  prefer  to  return  to  the  scene  of  his  disgrace, 
and  to  his  sordid  toil,  did  not  enter  their  minds. 

In  the  enthusiasm  of  his  new-born  faith  Haldane  had 
determined  to  face  the  pubUc  gaze,  and  hear  Dr.  Marks 
preach.  It  is  true,  he  had  greatly  dreaded  the  ordeal — 
and  for  his  mother  and  sisters,  far  more  than  for  himself. 
When  he  began  to  intimate  something  of  this  feeling  his 
mother  promptly  motioned  to  the  waitress  to  withdraw 
from  the  room.  He  then  soon  learned  that  they  had  not 
attended  church  since  Mrs.  Haldane' s  return  from  her 
memorable  visit  to  Hillaton,  and  that  they  had  no  inten- 
tion of  going  to-day. 

"The  very  thought  makes  me  turn  faint  and  sick," 
said  the  poor,  weak  gentlewoman. 

"  We  should  feel  like  sinking  through  the  floor  of  the 
aisle,"  chorused  the  pallid  young  ladies. 

Haldane  ceased  partaking  of  his  breakfast  at  once,  and 
leaned  back  in  his  chair. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  he  asked  gloomily,  "  that  my 
folly  has  turned  this  house  into  a  tomb,  and  that  you  will 
bury  yourselves  here  indefinitely  ?  " 

"  Well,"  sighed  the  mother,  "  if  we  live  this  wretched 
life  of  seclusion,  brooding  over  our  troubles  much  longer, 
smaller  tombs  will  suffice  us.  You  see  that  your  sisters 
are  beginning  to  look  like  ghosts,  and  I'm  sure  I  feel 
that  I  can  never  hft  up  my  head  again.     I  know  it  is  said 


304  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

that  time  works  wonders.  Perhaps  if  we  went  abroad  for 
a  few  years,  and  then  resided  in  some  other  city,  or  in  the 
seclusion  of  some  quiet  country  place,  we  might  escape 
this — "  and  Mrs.  Haldane  finished  with  a  sigh  that  was 
far  worse  than  any  words  could  have  been.  After  a  mo- 
ment she  concluded  :  "  But,  of  course,  we  cannot  go  out 
here,  where  all  that  has  happened  is  so  fresh,  and  upper- 
most in  every  one's  mind.  The  more  I  think  of  it,  the 
more  decided  I  am  that  the  best  thing  for  us  all  is  to  go 
to  some  quiet  watering-place  in  Europe,  where  there  are 
but  few,  if  any,  Americans  ;  and  in  time  we  may  feel 
differently." 

Her  son  ate  no  more  breakfast.  He  was  beginning  to 
reahze,  as  he  had  not  before,  that  he  was  in  a  certain 
sense  a  corpse,  which  this  decorous  and  exquisitely  refined 
family  could  not  bury,  but  would  hide  as  far  as  possible. 

"  You  then  expect  me  to  go  with  you  to  Europe?"  he 
said. 

"  Certainly.     We  could  not  go  without  a  gentleman." 

"That  I  scarcely  am  now,  mother,  in  your  estimation 
or  in  society's.   I  think  you  could  get  on  better  without  me." 

«'  Now,  Egbert,  be  sensible." 

"What  am  I  to  do  in  this  secluded  European  water- 
ing-place, where  there  are  no  Americans,  and  at  which 
we  are  to  sojourn  indefinitely  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  have  not  thought.  Your  sisters,  at  least, 
can  venture  out  and  get  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  It  is  time 
you  thought  of  them  rather  than  of  yourself.  You  could 
amuse  yourself  with  the  natives,  or  by  fishing  and  hunt- 
ing." 

"Mother!  "  he  exclaimed,  impetuously,  "I  no  longer 
desire  to  merely  amuse  myself.  I  wish  to  become  a  man, 
in  the  best  sense  of  the  word." 

Mrs.  Haldane  evidently  experienced  a  disagreeable 
nervous  shock  at  the  sudden  intensity  of  his  manner,  but 
she  said,  with  rebuking  quietness, 


VOTARIES  OF  THE    WORLD.  305 

"  I  am  sure  I  wish  you  to  become  such  a  man,  thor- 
oughly well  bred,  and  thoroughly  under  self-control.  It 
is  my  purpose  to  enable  you  to  appear  like  a  perfect  gen- 
tleman from  this  time  forward,  and  I  expect  that  you  will 
be  one." 

"What  will  I  be  but  a  well-dressed  nonentity?  what 
will  I  be  but  a  coward,  seeking  to  get  away  as  far  as  pos- 
sible from  the  place  of  my  defeat,  and  to  hide  from  its 
consequences?"  he  answered,  with  sharp,  bitter  emphasis. 

"  Egbert,  your  tendency  to  exaggeration  and  violent 
speech  is  more  than  I  can  bear  in  my  weak,  nervous  con- 
dition. When  you  have  thought  this  matter  over  calmly, 
and  have  realized  how  I  and  your  sisters  feel,  you  will 
see  that  we  are  right — that  is,  if  Dr.  Marks  is  correct, 
and  you  do  really  wish  to  atone  for  the  past  as  far  as  it 
now  can  be  done." 

The  young  man  paced  restlessly  up  and  down  the  room 
in  an  agitated  manner,  which  greatly  disquieted  his 
mother  and  sisters. 

"Can  you  not  realize,"  he  at  last  burst  out,  "that  I, 
also,  have  a  conscience  ?  that  I  am  no  longer  a  child  ? 
and  that  I  cannot  see  things  as  you  do?  " 

"  Egbert,"  exclaimed  his  elder  sister,  lifting  her  hand 
deprecatingly,  "  we  are  not  deaf." 

"  If  you  will  only  follow  your  conscience,"  continued 
Mrs.  Haldane,  in  her  low  monotone,  "  all  will  be  well. 
It  is  your  being  carried  away  by  gusts  of  impulse  and 
violent  passions  that  makes  all  the  trouble.  If  you  had 
followed  your  conscience  you  would  have  at  once  left  Hil- 
laton  at  my  request,  and  hidden  yourself  in  the  seclusion 
that  I  indicated.  If  you  had  done  so,  you  might  have 
saved  yourself  and  us  from  all  that  has  since  occurred." 

"  But  I  would  have  lost  my  self-respect.  I  should 
have  done  worse — " 

"Self-respect!"  interrupted  his  mother,  with  an  ex- 
pression   akin   to   disgust  flitting  across  her  pale  face. 


306   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

'•  How  can  you  use  that  word  after  what  has  happened, 
and  especially  now  that  you  are  working  among  those 
vulgar  factory  people,  and  living  with  that  profane  old 
creature  who  goes  by  the  name  of  'Jerry  Growler.'  To 
think  that  you,  who  bear  your  father's  name,  should  have 
fallen  so  low  !  The  daily  and  hourly  mortification  of 
thinking  of  all  this,  here,  where  for  so  many  years  there 
was  not  a  speck  upon  our  family  reputation,  is  more  than 
flesh  and  blood  can  endure.  Our  only  course  now  is  to 
go  away  where  we  are  not  known.  Our  best  hope  is  to 
make  you  appear  like  what  your  father  meant  you  should 
be,  and  try  to  forget  that  you  have  been  any  thing 
else  ;  and  if  you  have  any  sense  of  obligation  to  us  left 
you  will  do  what  you  can  to  carry  out  our  efforts.  Dr. 
Marks  thinks  you  have  met  with  •  a  change  of  heart.'  I 
am  sure  you  can  prove  it  in  no  better  way  than  by  a 
docile  acquiescence  in  the  wishes  of  one  who  has  a 
natural  right  to  control  you,  and  whose  teachings,"  she 
added  complacently,  "had  they  been  followed,  would 
have  enabled  you  to  hold  up  your  head  to-day  among 
the  proudest  in  the  land." 

Haldane  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  fairly  groaned, 
in  his  disappointment  and  sense  of  humiliation. 

"Is  it  possible,"  asked  one  of  his  sisters,  "that  yoa 
thought  that  we  could  all  go  out  to  church  to-day  as  usual, 
and  commence  life  to-morrow  where  we  left  off  when  you 
first  went  away  from  home  ?  " 

"I  expected  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  her  brother, 
Hfting  up  a  face  that  was  pale  from  suppressed  feeling; 
"the  fact  is,  I  have  thought  little  about  all  this  that  is 
uppermost  in  your  minds.  I  have  been  all  through  the 
phase  of  shrinking  from  the  world's  word  and  touch,  as 
if  my  whole  being  were  a  diseased  nerve.  While  in  that 
condition  I  suffered  enough,  God  knows  ;  but  even  in  the 
police  court  I  was  not  made  to  feel  more  thoroughly  that 
I  was  a  disgraced  criminal  than  I  have  been  here,  in  my 


VOTARIES   OF  THE    WORLD.  307 

childhood's  home.  Perhaps  you  can't  help  your  feeling  ; 
but  the  result  is  all  the  same.  Through  the  influence  of 
a  woman  who  belongs  to  heaven  rather  than  earth,  I  was 
led  to  forget  the  world  and  all  about  it ;  I  was  led  to  wish 
to  form  a  good  character  for  its  own  sake.  I  wanted  to 
be  rid  of  the  debasing  vices  of  my  nature  which  she  had 
made  me  hate,  and  which  would  separate  me  from  such 
as  she  is.  I  wanted  your  forgiveness,  mother.  More 
than  all,  I  wanted  God's  forgiveness,  and  that  great 
change  in  my  nature  which  He  alone  can  bestow.  I  felt 
that  Dr.  Marks  could  help  me,  because  I  beheved  in  him  ; 
and  he  did  carry  me,  as  it  were,  to  the  very  gate  of 
heaven.  I  expected,  at  least,  a  httle  sympathy  from  you 
all,  and  a  God-speed  as  I  went  back  to  my  work  to-mor- 
row. I  even  hoped  that  you  might  take  me  by  the  hand, 
and  say  to  those  who  knew  us  here,  '  My  son  was  lost, 
but  is  found.  He  wishes  to  live  a  manly,  Christian  life, 
and  all  who  are  Christians  should  help  him.'  I  find,  on 
the  contrary,  that  Christ  and  His  words  are  forgotten  ; 
that  I  am  regarded  as  a  hideous  and  deformed  creature, 
that  must  be  disguised  as  far  as  possible,  and  spirited  off 
to  some  remote  corner  of  the  earth,  and  there  virtually 
buried  alive.  Thus  different  are  the  teachings  of  the 
Bible  and  the  teachings  of  the  world.  I  thought  I  could 
not  endure  my  hard  lot  at  Hillaton  any  longer,  but  I  shall 
go  back  to  it  quite  content." 

As  the  youth  uttered  these  words,  with  his  usual  im- 
petuosity, his  mother  could  only  weep  and  tremble  in  her 
weak  and  nervous  way  ;  but  his  sisters  exclaimed  : 

"  (io  back  to  your  old  mill-life  at  Hillaton  !  " 

"Yes,  by  the  first  train,  to-morrow." 

"Well!"  they  chorused,  with  a  long  breath,  but  as 
all  language  seemed  inadequate  they  added  nothing  to 
their  exclamation. 

Mrs.  Haldane  slowly  wiped  her  eyes,  and  said,  "  Eg- 
bert is  excited  now,  and  does  not  realize  how  we  feel. 


308  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

After  he  has  thought  it  all  over  quietly  he  will  see  things 
in  a  different  light,  and  will  perceive  that  he  should  take 
counsel  from  his  mother  rather  than  from  a  stranger" 
(with  pecuhar  emphasis  on  this  word).  "If  he  really 
wishes  to  do  his  duty  as  a  Christian  man,  he  will  see  that 
the  first  and  most  sacred  obligations  resting  on  him  are 
to  us  and  not  to  others,  even  though  they  may  be  more 
angelic  than  we  are.  You  promised  last  evening  that  it 
would  be  your  life-effort  to  make  amends  for  the  wrongs 
you  have  inflicted  upon  us  ;  and  going  back  to  your  old, 
sordid  life  and  vulgar  associations  would  be  a  strange 
way  of  keeping  this  pledge.  I  suggest  that  we  all  retire 
to  our  rooms,  and  in  the  after  part  of  the  day  we  shall 
be  calmer,  and  therefore  more  rational;  "  and  the  ladies 
quietly  glided  out,  like  black  shadows.  Indeed,  they 
and  their  lives  had  become  little  more  than  attenuated 
shadows. 

There  is  nothing  which  so  thoroughly  depletes  and  robs 
moral  character  of  all  substance — there  is  nothing  which 
so  effectually  destroys  all  robust  individuahty — as  the  con- 
tinuous asking  of  the  question,  "  What  will  people  say? " 

Poor  Haldane  went  to  his  room,  and  paced  it  by  the 
hour.  He  had  learned  thus  early  that  the  Christian  life 
was  not  made  up  of  sacred  and  beatific  emotions,  under 
the  influence  of  which  duty  would  become  an  easy,  sun- 
illumined  path. 

He  already  was  in  sore  perplexity  as  to  what  his  duty 
was  in  this  instance.  Ought  he  not  to  devote  himself  tc^ 
his  mother  and  sisters,  and  hope  that  time  would  bring  a 
healthful  change  in  their  morbid  feeling  ?  Surely  what 
they  asked  would  not  seem  hard  in  the  world's  estima- 
tion— a  trip  to  Europe,  and  a  life  of  luxurious  ease  and 
amusement — for  society  would  agree  with  his  mother^ 
that  he  could  be  as  good  and  Christian-like  as  he  pleased 
in  the  meantime.  The  majority  would  say  that  if  he 
could  in  part  make  amends  by  acquiescence  in  so  reason- 


VOTARIES   OF  THE    WORLD.  309 

able  a  request,  and  one  that  promised  so  much  of  pleas- 
ure and  advantage  to  himself,  he  ought  certainly  to  yield. 

But  all  that  was  good  and  manly  in  the  young  fellow's 
nature  rose  up  against  the  plan.  In  the  first  place,  he 
instinctively  felt  that  his  mother  and  sisters'  views  on 
nearly  all  subjects  would  be  continually  at  variance  with 
his  own,  since  they  were  coming  to  look  at  life  from  such 
totally  different  standpoints.  He  also  believed  that  he 
would  be  an  ever-present  burden  and  source  of  mortifi- 
cation to  them.  As  a  child  and  a  boy  he  had  been  their 
idol.  They  had  looked  forward  to  the  time  when  he, 
with  irreproachable  manners  and  reputation,  would  be- 
come their  escort  in  the  exclusive  circles  in  which  they 
were  entitled  to  move.  Now  he  was  and  would  continue 
to  be  the  insuperable  bar  to  those  circles  ;  and  by  their 
sighs  and  manner  he  would  be  continually  reminded  of 
this  fact.  Fallen  idols  are  a  perpetual  offense  to  their 
former  worshipers,  as  they  ever  remind  of  the  downfall 
of  towering  hopes. 

With  all  his  faults,  Haldane  had  too  much  spirit  to  go 
through  life  as  one  who  must  be  tolerated,  endured,  kept 
in  the  background,  and  concerning  whom  no  questions 
must  be  asked. 

He  did  think  the  matter  over  long  and  carefully,  and 
concluded  that  even  for  his  mother  and  sisters'  sake  it 
would  be  best  that  they  should  Hve  apart.  If  he  could 
thoroughly  retrieve  his  character  where  he  had  lost  it, 
they  would  be  reconciled  to  him ;  if  he  could  not,  he 
would  be  less  of  a  burden  and  a  mortification  absent 
than  present. 

When  he  considered  his  own  feelings,  the  thought  of 
skulking  and  hiding  through  life  made  his  cheek  tingle 
with  shame  and  disgust.  Conscience  sided  with  his  in- 
clination to  go  back  to  his  old,  hard  fight  at  Hillaton  ; 
and  it  also  appeared  to  him  that  he  could  there  better 
maintain  a  Christian  life,  in  spite  of  all  the  odds  against 


310   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

him,  than  by  taking  the  enervating  course  marked  out 
by  his  mother.  He  also  remembered,  with  a  faint  thrill 
of  hope,  that  whatever  recognition  he  could  get  at  Hilla- 
ton  as  a  changed,  a  better  man,  it  would  be  based  on  the 
rock  of  truth. 

He  therefore  concluded  to  go  back  as  he  had  intended, 
and  with  the  decision  came  his  former,  happy,  mystical 
feeling,  welling  up  in  his  heart  hke  the  sweet  refreshing 
waters  of  a  spring,  the  consciousness  of  which  filled  his 
heart  with  courage  and  confidence  as  to  the  future. 

"Surely,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  am  a  changed,  a  con- 
verted man.  These  strange,  sweet  emotions,  this  un- 
speakable gladness  of  heart  in  the  midst  of  so  much  that 
is  painful  and  distracting,  prove  that  I  am.  I  have  not 
taken  this  journey  in  vain." 

Haldane  met  only  his  sisters  at  dinner,  for  the  scene 
of  the  morning  had  prostrated  his  mother  w  ith  a  nervous 
headache.  In  spite  of  his  efforts,  it  was  a  constrained 
and  dismal  affair,  and  all  were  glad  when  it  was  over. 

In  the  evening  they  all  met  in  Mrs.  Haldane's  room, 
and  the  young  man  told  them  his  decision  so  firmly  and 
quietly  that,  while  they  were  both  surprised  and  angry, 
they  saw  it  was  useless  to  remonstrate.  He  next  drew 
such  a  dreary  picture  of  the  future  as  they  had  designed 
it,  that  they  were  half  incHned  to  think  he  was  right,  and 
that  his  presence  would  be  a  greater  source  of  pain  than 
of  comfort  to  them.  He  also  convinced  them  that  it 
would  be  less  embarrassing  for  them  to  go  to  Europe 
alone  than  with  his  escort,  and  that  the  plan  of  going 
abroad  need  not  be  given  up. 

But  Mrs.  Haldane  was  strenuous  on  the  point  that  he 
should  leave  Hillaton,  accept  of  her  old  offer,  and  live  a 
quiet,  respectable  life  in  some  retired  place  where  he  was 
not  known. 

"  I  will  not  have  it  said,"  she  persisted,  "  that  my  son 
is  working  as  a  common  factory  hand,  nor  will  I  have 


VOTARIES   OF  THE    WORLD.  311! 

our  name  associated  with  that  wretched  old  creature 
whose  profanity  and  general  outlandishness  are  the  town- 
talk  and  the  constant  theme  of  newspaper  squibs.  You 
at  least  owe  it  to  us  to  let  this  scandal  die  out  as  speedily 
as  possible.  If  you  will  comply  with  these  most  reason- 
able requirements,  I  will  see  that  you  have  an  abundant 
support.  If  you  will  not,  I  have  no  evidence  of  a  change 
in  your  character  ;  nor  can  I  see  any  better  way  than  to 
leave  you  to  suffer  the  consequences  of  your  folly  until 
you  do  come  to  your  senses." 

"Mother,  do  you  think  a  young  fellow  of  my  years 
and  energy  could  go  to  an  out-of-the-way  place,  and  just 
mope,  eat,  and  sleep  for  the  sake  of  being  supported?  I 
would  rather  starve  first.  I  fear  we  shall  never  under- 
stand each  other  ;  and  I  have  reached  that  point  in  life 
w^hen  I  must  follow  my  own  conscience.  I  shall  leave 
to-morrow  morning  before  any  of  you  are  up  ;  and  in  my 
old  working  clothes.  Good-by  ;  "  and  before  they  could 
realize  it  he  had  kissed  them  and  left  the  room. 

They  weakly  sighed  as  over  the  inevitable  ;  but  one  of 
his  sisters  said,  "  He  will  be  glad  enough  to  come  to  your 
terms  before  winter." 


CHAPTER  XL. 

HUMAN    NATURE. 

At  an  early  hour  Haldane,  true  to  his  purpose,  de- 
parted from  the  home  of  his  childhood  in  the  guise  of  a 
laborer,  as  he  had  come.  His  mother  heard  his  step  on 
the  stairs,  for  she  had  passed  a  sleepless  night,  agitated 
by  painful  emotions.  She  wished  to  call  him  back  ;  she 
grieved  over  his  course  as  a  "  dark  and  mysterious  provi- 
dence," as  a  misfortune  which,  hke  death,  could  not  be 
escaped  ;  but  with  the  persistency  of  a  httle  mind,  capa- 
ble of  taking  but  a  single  and  narrow  view,  she  was  ab- 
solutely sure  she  w-as  right  in  her  course,  and  that  nothing 
but  harsh  and  bitter  experience  would  bring  her  wayward 
son  to  his  senses. 

Nor  did  it  seem  that  the  harsh  experience  would  be 
wanting,  for  the  morning  was  well  advanced  when  he 
reached  his  place  of  work,  and  he  received  a  severe 
reprimand  from  the  foreman  for  being  so  late.  His  ex- 
planation, that  he  had  received  permission  to  be  absent, 
was  incredulously  received.  It  also  seemed  that  gibes, 
taunts,  and  sneers  were  flung  at  him  with  increasing 
venom  by  his  ill-natured  associates,  who  were  vexed  that 
they  had  not  been  able  to  drive  him  away  by  their  perse- 
cutions. 

But  the  object  of  their  spite  was  dwelling  in  a  world  of 
which  they  knew  nothing,  and  in  which  they  had  no  part, 
and,  almost  obHvious  of  their  existence,  he  performed  his 
mechanical  duty  in  almost  undisturbed  serenity. 

Mr.  Growther  welcomed  him  back  most  heartily,  and 
with  an  air  of  eager  expectation,  and  when  Haldane 
312 


HUMAN  NATURE.  315 

briefly  but  graphically  narrated  his  experience,  he  hob- 
bled up  and  down  the  room  in  a  state  of  great  excitement. 

"You've  got  it!  you've  got  it!  and  the  genuine  arti- 
cle, too,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Jeremiah  Growther  I  "  he 
exclaimed  ;  "  I'd  give  the  whole  airth,  and  any  thing  else 
to  boot,  that  was  asked,  if  I  could  only  git  religion.  But 
it's  no  use  for  me  to  think  about  it  ;  I'm  done,  and  cooled 
off,  and  would  break  inter  ten  thousand  pieces  if  I  tried 
to  change  myself.  I  couldn't  feel  what  you  feel  any  more 
than  I  could  run  and  jump  as  you  kin.  My  moral  j'ints 
is  as  stiff  as  hedge-stakes.  If  I  tried  to  git  up  a  little  of 
your  feelin',  it  would  be  hke  tryin*  to  hurry  along  the 
spring  by  buildin'  a  fire  on  the  frozen  ground.  It  would 
only  make  one  little  spot  soft  and  sloppy  ;  the  fire  would 
soon  go  out  :  then  it  would  freeze  right  up  agin.  Now,. 
with  you  it's  spring  all  over;  you  feel  tender  and  meller- 
like,  and  every  thing  good  is  ready  to  sprout.  Well, 
well  !  if  I  do  have  to  go  to  old  Nick  at  last,  I'm  powerful 
glad  he's  had  this  set-back  in  your  case." 

Long  and  earnestly  did  Haldane  try  to  reason  his  quaint 
friend  out  of  his  despairing  views  of  himself.  At  last  the 
old  man  said  testily, 

"Now,  look  here  ;  you're  too  new-fledged  a  saint  to 
instruct  a  seasoned  and  experienced  old  sinner  like  me. 
You  don't  know  much  about  the  Lord's  ways  yet,  and  I 
know  all  about  the  devil's  ways.  Because  you've  got 
out  of  his  clutches  (and  I'm  mighty  glad  you  have)  you 
needn't  make  light  of  him,  and  take  liberties  with  him  as 
if  he  was  nobody,  'specially  when  Scripter  calls  him  '  a 
roarin'  lion.'  If  I  was  as  young  as  you  be,  I'd  make  a 
dead  set  to  git  away  from  him  ;  but  after  tryin'  more 
times  than  you've  lived  years,  I  know  it  ain't  no  use.  I 
tell  you  I  can't  feel  as  you  feel,  any  more  than  you  cark 
squeeze  water  out  of  them  old  andirons.     A-a-h  !  " 

Haldane  was  silent,  feeling  that  the  old  man's  spiritual 
condition  was  too  knotty  a  problem  for  him  to  solve. 


314   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

After  a  few  moments  Mr.  Growther  added,  in  a  voice 
that  he  meant  to  be  very  solemn  and  impressive  : 

"  But  I  want  you  to  enjoy  your  religious  feelin's  all  the 
same.  I  will  listen  to  all  the  Scripter  readin'  and  prayin' 
you're  willin'  to  do,  without  makin'  any  disturbance. 
Indeed,  I  think  I  will  enjoy  my  wittles  more,  now  that  an 
honest  grace  can  be  said  over  'em.  An'  when  you  read 
the  Bible,  you  needn't  read  the  cussin'  parts,  if  yer  don't 
want  to.  I'll  read  'em  to  myself  hereafter.  I'll  give  you 
all  the  leeway  that  an  old  curmudgeon  like  myself  kin, 
and  I  expect  to  take  a  sight  o'  comfort  in  seein'  you  goin' 
on  your  way  rejoicin'." 

And  he  did  seem  to  take  as  much  interest  in  the  young 
man's  progress  and  new  spiritual  experiences  as  if  he 
alone  were  the  one  interested.  His  efforts  to  control  his 
irritability  and  profanity  were  both  odd  and  pathetic,  and 
Haldane  would  sometimes  hear  him  swearing  softly  tr 
himself,  with  strange  contortions  of  his  wrinkled  face- 
-when  in  former  times  he  would  have  vented  his  spite  in 
the  harshest  tones. 

Haldane  wrote  fully  to  Mrs.  Arnot  of  his  visit  to  his 
native  city  and  its  happy  results,  and  enlarged  upon  his 
changed  feelings  as  the  proof  that  he  was  a  changed  man. 

Her  reply  was  prompt,  and  was  filled  with  the  warm- 
est congratulations  and  expressions  of  the  sincerest  sym- 
pathy.    It  also  contained  these  words  : 

"  I  fear  that  you  are  dwelling  too  largely  upon  your 
feelings  and  experiences,  and  are  giving  to  them  a  value 
they  do  not  possess.  Not  that  I  would  undervalue  them 
— they  are  gracious  tokens  of  God's  favor  ;  but  they  are 
not  the  grounds  of  your  salvation  and  acceptance  with 
God." 

Haldane  did  not  believe  that  they  were — he  had  been 
too  well  taught  for  that — but  he  regarded  them  as  the 
evidences  that  he  was  accepted,  that  he  was  a  Christian  ; 
and  he  expected  them  to  continue,  and  to  bear  him  for- 


HUMAN  NATURE.  315 

ward,  and  through  and  over  the  pecuHar  trials  of  his  lot, 
as  on  a  strong  and  shining  tide. 

Mrs.  Arnot  also  stated  that  she  was  just  on  the  eve  of 
leaving  home  for  a  time,  and  that  on  her  return  she  would 
see  him  and  explain  more  fully  her  meaning. 

In  conclusion,  she  wrote  :  "  I  think  you  did  what  was 
right  and  best  in  returning  to  Hillaton.  At  any  rate,  you 
have  reached  that  age  when  you  must  obey  your  own 
conscience,  and  can  no  longer  place  the  responsibility  of 
your  action  upon  others.  But,  remember,  that  you  owe 
to  your  mother  the  most  dehcate  forbearance  and  con- 
sideration. You  should  write  to  her  regularly,  and  seek 
to  prove  that  you  are  guided  by  principle  rather  than  im- 
pulse. Your  mother  has  much  reason  to  feel  as  she 
does,  and  nothing  can  excuse  you  from  the  sacred  duties 
you  owe  to  her." 

Haldane  did  write  as  Mrs.  Arnot  suggested.  In  a  few^ 
days  he  received  the  following  letter  from  his  mother  : 

We  shall  sail  for  Europe  as  soon  as  we  can  get  ready  for  the 
journey.  Our  lawyer  is  making  all  the  necessary  arrangements 
for  us.  I  will  leave  funds  with  him,  and  whenever  you  are 
ready  in  good  faith  to  accept  my  offer,  leave  Hillaton,  and  live 
so  that  this  scandal  can  die  out,  you  can  obtain  from  him  the 
means  of  living  decently  and  quietly.  As  it  is,  I  live  in  daily 
terror  lest  you  again  do  something  which  will  bring  our  name 
into  the  Hillaton  papers;  and,  of  course,  every  thing  is  copied 
by  the  press  of  this  city.  Will  the  time  ever  come  when  you 
will  consider  your  mother's  and  sisters'  feelings? 

For  a  time  all  went  as  well  as  could  be  expected  in  the 
trying  circumstances  of  Haldane's  life.  His  prayers  for 
strength  and  patience  were  at  first  earnest,  and  their  an- 
swers seemed  assured — so  assured,  indeed,  that  in  times 
of  haste  and  weariness  prayer  eventually  came  to  be  hur- 
ried or  neglected.  Before  he  was  aware  of  it,  feeling  be- 
gan to  ebb  away.  He  at  last  became  troubled,  and  then 
alarmed,  and  made  great  effort  to  regain  his  old,  happy 


316   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

emotions  and  experiences  ;  but,  like  an  outgoing  tide, 
they  eijbed  steadily  away. 

His  face  indicated  his  disquiet  and  anxiety,  for  he  felt 
like  one  who  was  clinging  to  a  rope  that  was  slowly  part- 
ing, strand  by  strand. 

Keen-eyed  Mr,  Growlher  watched  him  closely,  and  was 
satisfied  that  something  was  amiss.  He  was  much  con- 
cerned, and  took  not  a  little  of  the  blame  upon  himself. 

"  How  can  a  man  be  a  Christian,  or  any  thing  else 
that's  decent,  when  he  keeps  such  cussed  company  as  I 
be?  "  he  muttered.  "  I  s'pose  I  kinder  pisen  and  wither 
up  his  good  feelin's  like  a  sulphuric  acid  fact'ry." 

One  evening  he  exclaimed  to  Haldane,  "  I  say,  young 
man,  you  had  better  pull  out  o'  here." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I'll  give  you  a  receipt  in  full  and  a  good  character, 
and  then  you  look  for  a  healthier  boardin'-place." 

"  Ah,  I  see  !     You  wish  to  be  rid  of  me  ?  " 

"  No,  you  don't  see,  nuther.  I  wish  you  to  be  rid  of 
me." 

"  Of  course,  if  you  wish  me  to  go,  I'll  go  at  once,"  said 
Haldane,  in  a  despondent  tone. 

'•  And  go  off  at  half-cock  into  the  bargain  ?  I  ain't  one 
of  the  kind,  you  know,  that  talks  around  Robin  Hood's 
barn.  I  go  straight  in  at  the  front  door  and  out  at  the 
back.  It's  my  rough  way  of  coming  to  the  p'int  at  once. 
I  kin  see  that  you're  runnin'  behind  in  speret'al  matters, 
and  I  believe  that  my  cussedness  is  part  to  blame.  You 
don't  feel  good  as  you  used  to.  It  would  never  do  to  git 
down  at  the  heel  in  these  matters,  'cause  the  poorest  tim- 
ber in  the  market  is  yer  old  backsliders.  I'd  rather  be 
what  I  am  than  be  a  backshder.  The  right  way  is  to  take 
these  things  in  time,  before  you  git  agoin'  down  hill  too 
fast.  It  isn't  that  I  want  to  git  rid  of  you  at  all.  I've 
kinder  got  used  to  you,  and  like  to  have  you  'round 
'mazingly  ;   but  I  don't  s'pose  it's  possible  for  you  to 


nmiAN  NATURE.  317 

feel  right  and  live  with  me,  and  so  you  had  better  cut 
stick  in  time,  for  you  must  keep  a-feelin'  good  and  pi'us- 
like,  my  boy,  or  it's  all  up  with  you." 

"  Then  you  don't  want  me  to  go  for  the  sake  of  your 
own  comfort  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  only  want  you  to  git  inter  a  place 
that  isn't  so  morally  pisened  as  this,  where  I  do  so  much 
cussin'  ;  for  I  will  and  must  cuss  as  long  as  there's  an 
atom  left  of  me  as  big  as  a  head  of  a  pin.     A-a-h  !  " 

"  Then  I  prefer  to  take  my  chances  with  you  to  going 
anywhere  else." 

'•  Think  twice." 

"  I  have  thought  more  than  twice." 

"Then  yer  blood  be  on  yer  own  head,"  said  Mr. 
Growther  with  tragic  solemnity,  as  if  he  were  about  to  take 
Haldane's  life.     "My  skirts  is  clear  after  this  warnin'." 

"Indeed  they  are.  You  haven't  done  me  a  bit  of 
harm." 

"Where  does  the  trouble  come  from  then  ?  Who  is 
a-harmin'  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  Mr.  Growther,"  said  Haldane,  wearily,  "  I 
hardly  know  what  is  the  matter.  I  am  losing  zest  and 
courage  unaccountably.  My  old,  happy  and  hopeful 
feelings  are  about  all  gone,  and  in  their  place  all  sorts  of 
evil  thoughts  seem  to  be  swarming  into  my  mind.  I  have 
tried  to  keep  all  this  to  myself,  but  I  have  become  so 
wretched  that  I  must  speak.  Mrs.  Arnot  is  away,  or  she 
might  help  me,  as  she  ever  does.  I  wish  that  I  felt  dif- 
ferently ;  I  pray  that  I  may,  but  in  spite  of  all  I  seem 
drifung  back  to  my  old  miserable  self.  Every  day  I  fear 
that  I  shall  have  trouble  at  the  mill.  When  I  felt  so 
strong  and  happy  I  did  not  mind  what  they  said.  One 
day  I  was  asked  by  a  workman,  who  is  quite  a  decent 
fellow,  how  I  stood  it  all?  and  I  replied  that  I  stood  it  as 
any  well-meaning  Christian  man  could.  My  impHed  as- 
sertion that   I   was  a  Christian  was  taken  up  as  a  great 


318   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

joke,  and  now  they  call  me  the  '  pi'us  jail-bird.*  As  long 
as  I  felt  at  heart  that  I  was  a  Christian,  1  did  not  care  ; 
but  now  their  words  gall  me  to  the  quick.  I  do  not  know 
what  to  think.  It  seems  to  me  that  if  any  one  ever  met 
-with  a  change  I  did.  I'm  sure  I  wish  to  feel  now  as  I  did 
then  ;  but  I  grow  worse  every  day.  I  am  losing  self-con- 
trol and  growing  irritable.  This  evening,  as  I  passed 
liquor  saloons  on  my  way  home,  my  old  appetite  for  drink 
seemed  as  strong  as  ever.     What  does  it  all  mean  ?" 

Mr.  Growther's  wrinkled  visage  worked  curiously,  and 
at  last  he  said  in  a  tone  and  manner  that  betokened  the 
deepest  distress  : 

"  I'm  awfully  afeered  you're  a-backslidin'." 

"  I  wish  I  had  never  been  born,"  exclaimed  the  youth, 
passionately,  "for  I  am  a  curse  to  myself  and  all  con- 
nected with  me.  I  know  I  shall  have  trouble  with  one 
man  at  the  mill.  I  can  see  it  coming,  and  then,  of  course, 
I  shall  be  discharged.  I  seem  destined  to  defeat  in  this 
my  last  attempt  to  be  a  man,  and  I  shall  never  have  the 
courage  or  hope  to  try  again.  If  I  do  break  down  utterly, 
I  feel  as  if  I  will  become  a  very  devil  incarnate.  O ! 
how  I  wish  that  Mrs.  Arnot  was  home." 

"  Now  this  beats  me  all  out,"  said  Mr.  Growther,  in 
great  perplexity.  "  A  while  ago  you  felt  like  a  saint  and 
acted  like  one,  now  you  talk  and  act  as  if  Old  Nick  and 
all  his  imps  had  got  a  hold  on  ye.  How  do  you  explain 
all  this,  for  it  beats  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  and  can't  explain.  But  here  are  the  facts, 
and  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  them?  " 

"  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  do  nothin'  with  'em  except  cuss 
*em  ;  and  that's  all  I  kin  do  in  any  case.  You've  got 
•beyond  my  depth." 

The  sorely  tempted  youth  could  obtain  but  little  aid  and 
comfort,  therefore,  from  his  quaint  old  friend,  and,  equally 
perplexed  and  unable  to  understand  himself,  he  sought 
to  obtain  such  rest  as  his  disquieted  condition  permitted. 


HUMAN  NATURE.  319 

As  a  result  of  wakefulness  in  the  early  part  of  the 
night,  he  slept  late  the  following  morning,  and  hastened 
to  his  work  with  scarcely  a  mouthful  of  breakfast.  He 
was  thus  disqualified,  physically  as  well  as  mentally,  for 
the  ordeal  of  the  day. 

He  was  a  few  minutes  behind  time,  and  a  sharp  repri- 
mand from  the  foreman  rasped  his  already  jangling  nerves. 
But  he  doggedly  set  his  teeth  and  resolved  to  see  and  hear 
nothing  save  that  which  pertained  to  his  work. 

He  might  have  kept  his  resolve  had  there  been  noth- 
ing more  to  contend  with  than  the  ordinary  verbal  per- 
secution. But  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  he  had  grown 
weary  from  the  strain  of  the  day,  his  special  tormentor,  a 
burly  Irishman,  took  occasion,  in  passing,  to  push  him 
rudely  against  a  pert  and  slattern  girl,  who  also  was  fore- 
most in  the  tacit  league  of  petty  annoyance.  She  acted 
as  if  the  contact  of  Haldane's  person  was  a  purposed  in- 
sult, and  resented  it  by  a  sharp  slap  of  his  face. 

Her  stinging  stroke  was  like  a  spark  to  a  magazine  ; 
but  paying  no  heed  to  her,  he  sprang  toward  her  laugh- 
ing ally  with  fierce  oaths  upon  his  lips,  and  by  a  single 
blow  sent  him  reeling  to  the  floor.  The  machinery  was 
stopped  sharply,  as  far  as  possible,  by  the  miscellaneous 
work-people,  to  whom  a  fight  was  a  boon  above  price, 
and  with  shrill  and  clamorous  outcries  they  gathered 
round  the  young  man  where  he  stood,  panting,  like  a 
wounded  animal  at  bay. 

His  powerful  antagonist  was  speedily  upon  his  feet, 
and  at  once  made  a  rush  for  the  youth  who  had  so  un- 
expectedly turned  upon  him  ;  and  though  he  received 
another  heavy  blow,  his  onset  was  so  strong  that  he  was 
able  to  close  with  Haldane,  and  thus  made  the  conflict  a 
mere  trial  of  brute  force. 

As  Haldane  afterward  recalled  the  scene,  he  was  con- 
scious that  at  the  time  he  felt  only  rage,  and  a  mad  de- 
sire to  destroy  his  opponent. 


320   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

In  strength  they  were  quite  evenly  matched,  and  after 
a  moment's  struggle  both  fell  heavily,  and  Haldane  was 
able  to  disengage  himself.  As  the  Irishman  rose,  and 
was  about  to  renew  the  fight,  he  struck  him  so  tremen- 
dous a  blow  on  the  temple  that  the  man  went  to  the  floor 
as  if  pierced  by  a  bullet,  and  lay  there  stunned  and  still. 

When  Haldane  saw  that  his  antagonist  did  not  move, 
time  was  given  him  to  think  ;  he  experienced  a  terrible 
revulsion.  He  remembered  his  profanity  and  brutal  rage, 
he  felt  that  he  had  broken  down  utterly.  He  was  over- 
whelmed by  his  moral  defeat,  and  covering  his  face  with 
his  hands,  he  groaned  "  Lost,  lost !  " 

"  By  jocks,"  exclaimed  a  rude,  half-grown  fellow, 
•'  that  clip  would  have  felled  an  ox." 

"Do  you  think  he's  dead?"  asked  the  slattern  girl, 
now  thoroughly  alarmed  at  the  consequences  of  the  blow 
she  had  given. 

"Dead!"  cried  Haldane,  catching  the  word,  and, 
pushing  all  aside,  he  knelt  over  his  prostrate  foe. 

"  Water,  bring  water,  for  God's  sake  !  "  he  said  eagerly, 
lifting  up  the  unconscious  man. 

It  was  brought  and  dashed  in  his  face.  A  moment 
later,  to  Haldane's  infinite  relief  he  revived,  and  after  a 
bewildered  stare  at  the  crowd  around  him,  fixed  his  eyes 
on  the  youth  who  had  dealt  the  blow,  and  then  a  con- 
sciousness of  all  that  had  occurred  seemed  to  return. 
He  showed  his  teeth  in  impotent  rage  for  a  moment,  as 
some  wild  animal  might  have  done,  and  then  rose  un- 
steadily to  his  feet. 

"Go  back  to  your  work,  all  on  ye,"  thundered  the 
foreman,  who,  now  that  the  sport  was  over,  was  bent  on 
making  a  great  show  of  his  zeal  ;  "  as  for  you  two  bull- 
dogs, you  shall  pay  dearly  for  this  ;  and  let  me  say  to 
you,  Mister  Haldane,  that  the  pious  dodge  won't  answer 
any  longer." 

A  moment  later,  with  the  exception  of  flushed  faces 


HUMAN  NATURE.  321 

and  excited  whisperings,  the  large  and  crowded  apart- 
ment wore  its  ordinary  aspect,  and  the  machinery  clanked 
on  as  monotonously  as  ever. 

Almost  as  mechanically  Haldane  moved  in  the  routine 
of  his  labor,  but  the  bitterness  of  despair  was  in  his  heart. 

He  forgot  that  he  would  probably  be  discharged  that 
day  ;  he  forgot  that  a  dark  and  uncertain  future  was  be- 
fore him.  He  only  remembered  his  rage  and  profanity, 
and  they  seemed  to  him  damning  proofs  that  all  he  had 
felt,  hoped,  and  believed  was  delusion. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

MRS.    ARNOT'S   creed. 

When  Haldane  entered  the  cottage  that  evening  his 
eyes  were  blood-shot  and  his  face  so  haggard  that  Mr. 
Grovvther  started  out  of  his  chair,  exclaiming, 

•'  Lord  a'  massy  !  what's  the  matter?  " 

"  Matter  enough,"  replied  the  youth,  with  a  reckless 
oath.     "The  worst  that  I  feared  has  happened." 

"  What's  happened  ?  "  asked  the  old  man  excitedly. 

"  I've  been  fighting  in  the  work-room  like  a  bull-dog, 
and  swearing  like  a  pirate.  That's  the  kind  of  a  Chris- 
tian I  am,  and  always  will  be.  What  I  was  made  for,  I 
don't  see,"  he  added,  as  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair. 

"Well,  well,  well!"  said  Mr.  Growther  dejectedly; 
"  I  was  in  hopes  she'd  git  here  in  time  ;  but  I'm  afeered 
you've  just  clean  backslid." 

"  No  kind  of  doubt  on  that  score,"  replied  the  young 
man,  with  a  bitter  laugh  ;  "  though  I  now  think  I  never 
had  very  far  to  slide.  And  yet  it  all  seems  wrong  and 
unjust.  Why  should  my  hopes  be  raised  ?  why  should 
such  feelings  be  inspired,  if  this  was  to  be  the  end  ?  If  I 
was  foreordained  to  go  to  the  devil,  why  must  an  aggra- 
vating glimpse  of  heaven  be  given  me?  I  say  it's  all 
cruel  and  wrong.  But  what's  the  use  !  Come,  let's  have 
supper,  one  must  eat  as  long  as  he's  in  the  body." 

It  was  a  silent  and  dismal  meal,  and  soon  over.  Then 
Haldane  took  his  hat  without  a  word. 

"Where  are  you  goin' ?  "  asked  Mr.  Growther,  anx- 
iously. 

"  I  neither  know  nor  care." 

"  Don't  go  out  to-night,  I  expect  somebody." 

322 


MRS.    AENOrS  CREED.  323 

••Who,  in  the  name  of  wonder?" 

"  Mrs.  Arnot." 

"  I  could  as  easily  face  an  angel  of  light  now  as  Mrs. 
Arnot,"  he  replied,  pausing  on  the  threshold;  for  even 
in  his  reckless  mood  the  old  man's  wistful  face  had  power 
to  restrain. 

"You  are  mistaken,  Egbert,"  said  a  gentle  voice  be- 
hind him.  "You  can  face  me  much  more  easily  than  an 
angel  of  hght.  I  am  human  like  yourself,  and  your 
friend." 

She  had  approached  the  open  door  through  the  dusk 
of  the  mild  autumn  evening,  and  had  heard  his  words. 
He  trembled  at  her  voice,  but  ventured  no  reply. 

"  I  have  come  to  see  you,  Egbert  ;  you  will  not  leave 
me." 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  said  passionately,  "  I  am  not  worth 
the  trouble  you  take  in  my  behalf,  and  I  might  as  well 
tell  you  at  once  that  it  is  in  vain." 

"  I  do  not  regard  what  I  do  for  you  as  '  trouble,'  and  I 
know  it  is  not  in  vain,"  she  replied,  with  calm,  clear  em- 
phasis. 

Her  manner  quieted  him  somewhat  ;  but  after  a  mo- 
ment he  said, 

"  You  do  not  know  what  has  happened  to-day,  nor  how 
I  have  been  feeling  for  many  days  past." 

"Your  manner  indicates  how  you  feel;  and  you  may 
tell  me  what  has  happened  if  you  wish.  If  you  prefer 
that  we  should  be  alone,  come  with  me  to  my  carriage, 
and  in  the  quiet  of  my  private  parlor  you  can  tell  me  all." 

"  No,"  said  Haldane  gloomily  ;  "  I  am  not  fit  to  enter 
your  house,  and  for  other  reasons  would  rather  not  do 
so.  I  have  no  better  friend  than  Mr.  Growther.  and  he 
already  knows  it  all.  I  may  as  well  tell  you  here  ;  that 
is,  if  you  are  willing  to  stay." 

"  I  came  to  stay,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  quietly  ;  and  sitting 
down,  she  turned  a  grave  and  expectant  face  toward  him. 


324   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  I  cannot  find  words  in  which  to  tell  you  my  shame, 
and  the  utterness  of  my  defeat." 

"  Yes,  you  can,  Egbert.  I  believe  that  you  have  al- 
ways told  me  the  truth  about  yourself." 

"  I  have,  and  I  will  again,"  he  said  desperately  ;  "  and 
yet  it  seems  like  profanation  to  describe  such  a  scene  to 
you."  But  he  did  describe  it,  briefly  and  graphically, 
nevertheless.  As  he  spoke  of  his  last  fierce  blow,  which 
vanquished  his  opponent,  Mr.  Grovvther  muttered, 

"  Sarved  him  right  ;  can't  help  feelin'  glad  you  hit  'im 
so  hard  ;  but  then  that's  in  keepin'  with  the  cussedness 
of  my  natur'." 

A  glimmer  of  a  smile  hovered  around  Mrs.  Arnot's 
flexible  mouth,  but  she  only  asked  quietly, 

"  Is  that  all?" 

"  I  should  think  that  was  enough,  after  all  that  I  had 
felt  and  professed." 

"  I  fear  I  shall  shock  you,  Egbert,  but  I  am  not  very 
much  surprised  at  your  course.  Indeed  I  think  it  was 
quite  natural,  in  view  of  the  circumstances.  Perhaps  my 
nature  is  akin  to  Mr.  Growther's,  for  I  am  rather  glad 
that  fellow  was  punished  ;  and  I  think  it  was  very  natural 
for  you  to  punish  him  as  you  did.  So  far  from  despair- 
ing of  you,  I  am  the  more  hopeful  of  you." 

"Mrs.  Arnot !  "  exclaimed  the  youth  in  undisguised 
astonishment. 

"  Now  do  not  jump  to  hasty  and  false  conclusions  from 
my  words;  I  do  not  say  that  your  action  was  right.  In 
the  abstract  it  was  decidedly  wrong,  and  for  your  lan- 
guage there  is  no  other  excuse  save  that  an  old,  bad 
habit  asserted  itself  at  a  time  when  you  had  lost  self-con- 
trol. I  am  dealing  leniently  with  you,  Egbert,  because 
it  is  a  trick  of  the  adversary  to  tempt  to  despair  as  well 
as  to  over-confidence.  At  the  same  time  I  speak  sin- 
cerely. You  are  and  have  been  for  some  time  in  a  mor- 
bid state  of  mind.     Let  my  simple  common-sense  come 


3IES.    ARNOrS  CREED.  325 

to  your  aid  in  this  emergency.  The  very  conditions  un- 
der which  you  have  been  working  at  the  mill  imposed  a 
continuous  strain  upon  your  nervous  power.  You  were 
steadily  approaching  a  point  where  mere  human  en- 
durance would  give  way.  Mark,  1  do  not  say  that  you 
might  not  have  been  helped  to  endure  longer,  and  to  en- 
dure every  thing  ;  but  mere  human  nature  could  not  have 
endured  it  much  longer.  It  is  often  wiser  to  shun  certain 
temptations,  if  we  can,  than  to  meet  them.  You  could 
not  do  this  ;  and  if,  taking  into  account  all  the  circum- 
stances, you  could  have  tamely  submitted  to  this  insult, 
which  was  the  culmination  of  long-continued  and  exas- 
perating injury,  I  should  have  doubted  whether  you  pos- 
sessed the  material  to  make  a  strong,  forceful  man.  Of 
course,  if  you  often  give  way  to  passion  in  this  manner, 
you  would  be  little  better  than  a  wild  beast ;  but  for 
weeks  you  had  exercised  very  great  forbearance  and  self- 
control — for  one  of  your  temperament,  remarkable  self- 
control — and  I  respect  you  for  it.  We  are  as  truly  bound 
to  be  just  to  ourselves  as  to  others.  Your  action  was 
certainly  wrong,  and  I  would  be  deeply  grieved  and  dis- 
appointed if  you  continued  to  give  way  to  such  ebulli- 
tions of  passion  ;  but  remembering  your  youth,  and  all 
that  has  happened  since  spring,  and  observing  plainly 
that  you  are  in  an  unhealthful  condition  of  mind  and  body, 
I  think  your  course  was  very  natural  indeed,  and  that 
you  have  no  occasion  for  such  despondency." 

"Yes,"  put  in  Mr.  Growther  ;  "and  he  went  away 
without  his  breakfast,  and  it  was  mighty  little  he  took  for 
lunch  ;  all  men  are  savages  when  they  haven't  eaten  any 
thing." 

"Pardon  me,  Mrs.  Arnot,"  said  Haldane  gloomily, 
"all  this  does  not  meet  the  case  at  all.  I  had  been 
hoping  that  I  was  a  Christian  ;  what  is  more,  it  seems  to 
me  that  I  had  had  the  feelings  and  experiences  of  a 
Christian." 


326   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  against  that,"  said  the  lady 
quietly  ;  "  I  am  very  glad  that  you  had." 

"After  what  has  occurred  what  right  have  I  to  think 
myself  a  Christian  ?  " 

"  As  good  a  right  as  multitudes  of  others." 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Arnot,  that  seems  to  me  to  be  contrary  to 
reason." 

"  It  is  not  contrary  to  fact.  Good  people  in  the  Bible, 
good  people  in  history,  and  to  my  personal  knowledge, 
too,  have  been  left  to  do  outrageously  wrong  things.  To 
err  is  human  ;  and  we  are  all  very  human,  Egbert." 

"  But  I  don't  feel  that  I  am  a  Christian  any  longer," 
he  said  sadly. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  not,  and  never  were.  But  this  is  a 
question  that  you  can  never  settle  by  consulting  your 
own  feelings." 

"  Then  how  can  I  settle  it?  "  was  the  eager  response. 

'•  By  settling  fully  and  finally  in  your  mind  what  rela- 
tion you  will  sustain  to  Jesus  Christ.  He  offers  to  be  your 
complete  Saviour  from  sin.  Will  you  accept  of  Him  as 
such  ?  He  offers  to  be  your  divine  and  unerring  guide 
and  example  in  your  every-day  life.  Will  you  accept  of 
Him  as  such  ?  Doing  these  two  things  in  simple  honesty 
and  to  the  best  of  our  ability  is  the  only  way  to  be  a 
Christian  that  I  know  of." 

'•  Is  that  all  ?  "  muttered  Mr.  Growther,  rising  for  a  mo- 
ment from  his  chair  in  his  deep  interest  in  her  words. 
She  gave  him  an  encouraging  smile,  and  then  turned  to 
Haldane  again. 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  said,  "  I  know  that  you  are  far 
wiser  in  these  matters  than  I,  and  yet  I  am  bewildered. 
The  Bible  says  we  must  be  converted  ;  that  we  must  be 
born  again.  It  seems  to  require  some  great,  mysterious 
change  that  shall  renew  our  whole  nature.  And  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  experienced  that  change.  It  would 
be  impossible  for  me  to  describe  to  you  my  emotions. 


3IES.    ARXOT'S  CREED.  327 

They  were  sincere  and  profound.  They  stirred  the  very 
depths  of  my  soul,  and  under  their  influcRce  it  was  a  joy 
to  worship  God  and  to  do  His  will.  Had  I  not  a  right  to 
beheve  that  the  hour  in  which  I  first  felt  those  glad  thrills 
of  faith  and  love  was  the  hour  of  my  conversion  ?  " 

"  You  had  a  right  to  hope  it." 

"  But  now,  to-day,  when  every  bad  passion  has  been 
uppermost  in  my  heart,  what  reason  have  I  to  hope  ?  " 

"  None  at  all,  looking  to  yourself  and  to  your  varying 
emotions." 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,  I  am  bewildered.  I  am  all  at  sea.  The 
Bible,  as  interpreted  by  Dr.  Barstow  and  Dr.  Marks, 
seems  to  require  so  much  ;  and  what  you  say  is  required 
is  simplicity  itself." 

"  If  you  will  listen  patiently,  Egbert,  I  will  give  you 
my  views,  and  I  think  they  are  correct,  for  I  endeavor  to 
take  them  wholly  from  the  Bible.  That  which  God  re- 
quires is  simplicity  itself,  and  yet  it  is  very  much  ;  it  is 
infinite.  In  the  first  place,  one  must  give  up  self- 
righteousness — not  self-respect,  mark  you — but  mere 
spiritual  self-conceit,  which  is  akin  to  the  feeling  of  some 
vulgar  people  who  think  they  are  good  enough  to  asso- 
ciate with  those  who  are  immeasurably  beyond  them, 
but  whose  superiority  they  are  too  small  to  comprehend. 
We  must  come  to  God  in  the  spirit  of  a  little  child  ;  anr* 
then,  as  if  we  were  children,  He  will  give  to  us  a  natum 
and  healthful  growth  in  the  life  that  resembles  His  own. 
This  is  the  simplest  thing  that  can  be  done,  and  all  can 
do  it  ;  but  how  many  are  trying  to  work  out  their  salva- 
tion by  some  intricate  method  of  human  device,  and, 
stranger  still,  are  very  complacent  over  the  mechanical 
and  abnormal  results  !  All  such  futile  efforts,  of  which 
many  are  so  vain,  must  be  cast  aside.  Listen  to  Christ's 
own  words  :  '  Learn  of  Me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in 
heart.'  He  who  would  enter  upon  the  Christian  life, 
must  come  to  Christ  as  the  true  scientist  sits  at  the  feet 


328   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

of  nature— docile,  teachable,  eager  to  learn  truth  that  ex- 
isted long  before  he  was  born,  and  not  disposed  to  thrust 
forward  some  miserable  little  system  of  his  own.  Noth- 
ing could  be  simpler,  easier,  or  more  pleasing  to  Christ 
Himself  than  the  action  of  Mary  as  she  sat  at  His  feet 
and  listened  to  Him  ;  but  many  are  like  Martha,  and  are 
bustling  about  in  His  service  in  ways  pleasing  to  them- 
selves ;  and  it  is  very  hard  for  them  to  give  up  their  own 
way.  I've  had  to  give  up  a  great  deal  in  my  time,  and 
perhaps  you  will. 

"  In  addition  to  all  trust  in  ourselves,  in  what  we  are 
and  what  we  have  done,  we  must  turn  away  from  what  we 
have  felt  ;  and  here  I  think  I  touch  your  present  diffi- 
culties. We  are  not  saved  by  the  emotions  of  our  own 
hearts,  however  sacred  and  delightful  they  may  seem. 
Nor  do  they  always  indicate  just  what  we  are  and  shall 
be.  A  few  weeks  since  you  thought  your  heart  had  be- 
come the  abiding-place  of  all  that  was  good  ;  now,  it 
seems  to  you  to  be  possessed  by  evil.  This  is  common 
experience  ;  at  one  time  the  Psalmist  sings  in  rapturous 
devotion  ;  again,  he  is  wailing  in  penitence  over  one  of 
the  blackest  crimes  in  history.  Peter  is  on  the  Mount  of 
Transfiguration  ;  again,  he  is  denying  his  master  with 
oaths  and  curses.  Even  good  men  vary  as  widely  as 
this  ;  but  Christ  is  '  the  same,  yesterday,  to-day,  and 
forever.'  By  good  men  I  mean  simply  those  who  are 
sincerely  wishing  and  trying  to  obtain  mastery  over  the 
evil  of  their  natures.  If  you  still  wish  to  do  this,  I  have 
abundant  hope  for  you, — as  much  hope  as  ever  I  had." 

"  Of  what  value,  then,  were  all  those  strange,  happy 
feehngs  which  I  regarded  as  the  proofs  of  my  con- 
version?" Haldane  asked,  with  the  look  of  deep  per- 
plexity still  upon  his  face. 

"  Of  very  great  value,  if  you  look  upon  them  in  their 
true  light.  They  were  evidences  of  God's  love  and 
favor.     They  showed  how  kindly  disposed  He  is  toward 


MES.    ARNOT'S  CREED.  329 

you.  They  can  prove  to  you  how  abundantly  able  He 
is  to  reward  all  trust  and  service,  giving  foretastes  of 
heavenly  bliss  even  in  the  midst  of  earthly  warfare.  The 
trouble  has  been  with  you,  as  with  so  many  others,  that 
you  have  been  consulting  your  variable  emotions  instead 
of  looking  simply  to  Christ,  the  author  and  finisher  of  our 
faith.  Besides,  the  power  is  not  given  to  us  to  maintain 
an  equable  flow  of  feeUng  for  any  considerable  length  of 
time.  We  react  from  exaltation  into  depression  inevitably. 
Our  feelings  depend  largely  also  upon  earthly  causes  and 
our  physical  condition,  and  we  can  never  be  absolutely 
sure  how  far  they  are  the  result  of  the  direct  action  of 
God's  Spirit  upon  our  minds.  It  is  God's  plan  to  work 
through  simple,  natural  means,  so  that  we  may  not  be 
looking  and  waiting  for  the  supernatural.  And  yet  it 
would  seem  that  many  are  so  irrational  that,  when  they 
find  mere  feeling  passing  away,  they  give  up  their  hope 
and  all  relationship  to  Christ,  acting  as  if  the  immutable 
love  of  God  were  changing  with  their  flickering  emotions." 

"  I  have  been  just  so  irrational,"  said  Haldane  in  a 
low,  deep  tone. 

"  Then  settle  it  now  and  forever,  my  dear  young  friend, 
that  Jesus  Christ,  who  died  to  save  you,  wishes  to  save 
you  every  day  and  all  the  days  of  your  life.  He  does 
not  change  a  hair's  breadth  from  the  attitude  indicated 
in  the  words,  '  Come  unto  IMe  ;  and  whosoever  cometh 
unto  Me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out.'  " 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  He  feels  that  way  toward  me  all 
the  time,  in  spite  of  all  my  cantankerous  moods?  "  asked 
Mr.  Growther  eagerly, 

"  Most  certainly." 

"  I  wouldn't  a'  thought  it  if  I'd  lived  a  thousand  years.' 

"What,  then,  is  conversion?"  asked  Haldane,  fee  ^ 
ing  as  if  he  were  being  led  safely  out  of  a  labyrinth  ii* 
which  he  had  lost  himself. 

"  In  my   view  it  is  simply  turning  away  from  ever;- 


330  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

thing  to  Christ  as  the  sole  ground  of  our  salvation  and  as 
our  divine  guide  and  example  in  Christian  living." 

"  But  how  can  we  ever  know  that  we  are  Christians?" 

"  Only  by  the  honest,  patient,  continued  effort  to  obey 
His  brief  command,  '  Follow  Me.'  We  may  follow  near, 
or  we  may  follow  afar  off ;  but  we  can  soon  learn  whether 
we  wish  to  get  nearer  to  Him,  or  to  get  away  from  Him, 
or  to  just  indifferently  let  Him  drop  out  of  our  thoughts. 
The  Christian  is  one  who  holds  and  maintains  certain 
simple  relations  to  Christ.  '  Ye  are  My  friends,'  He  said, 
not  if  you  feel  thus  and  so,  but,  '  if  ye  do  whatsoever  I 
command  you  ; '  and  I  have  found  from  many  years'  ex- 
perience that  '  His  commandments  are  not  grievous.* 
For  every  burden  He  imposes  He  gives  help  and  comfort 
a  hundred  times.  The  more  closely  and  faithfully  we 
follow  Him,  the  more  surely  do  fear  and  doubt  pass 
away.  We  learn  to  look  up  to  Him  as  a  child  looks  in 
its  mother's  face,  and  '  His  Spirit  beareth  witness  with 
our  spirit  that  we  are  His.'  But  the  vital  point  is,  are  we 
following  Him?  Feeling  varies  so  widely  and  strangely 
in  varied  circumstances  and  \vith  different  temperaments 
that  many  a  true  saint  of  God  would  be  left  in  cruel  un- 
certainty if  this  were  the  test.  My  creed  is  a  very  simple 
one,  Egbert ;  but  I  take  a  world  of  comfort  in  it.  It  con- 
tains only  three  words — Trust,  follow  Christ — that  is  all." 

"  It  is  so  simple  and  plain  that  I  am  tempted  to  take  it 
as  my  creed  also,"  said  Haldane,  with  a  tinge  of  hope 
and  enthusiasm  in  his  manner. 

"And  yet  remember,"  warned  his  friend  earnestly, 
*'  there  is  infinite  requirement  in  it.  A  child  can  make  a 
rude  sketch  of  a  perfect  statue  that  will  bear  some  faint 
resemblance  to  it.  If  he  perseveres  he  can  gradually 
learn  to  draw  the  statue  with  increasing  accuracy.  In 
taking  this  Divine  Man  as  your  example,  you  pledge 
yourself  to  imitate  One  whom  you  can  ever  approach  but 
never  reach.     And  yet  there  is  no  occasion  for  the  weak- 


MRS.    A  KNOT'S  CREED.  331 

est  to  falter  before  this  infinite  requirement,  for  God  Him- 
self in  spirit  is  present  everywhere  to  aid  all  in  regaining 
the  lost  image  of  Himself,  It  is  to  no  lonely  unguided 
effort  that  I  urge  you,  Egbert,  but  to  a  patient  co-work- 
ing with  your  Maker,  that  you  may  attain  a  character 
that  will  fit  you  to  dwell  at  last  in  your  kingly  Father's 
house  ;  and  I  tell  you  frankly,  for  your  encouragement, 
that  you  are  capable  of  forming  such  a  character.  I  will 
now  bid  you  good  night,  and  leave  you  to  think  over 
what  I  have  said.  But  write  to  me  or  come  to  me  when- 
ever you  wish. 

"Goodnight,  Mr.  Growther  ;  hate  yourself  if  you  will, 
but  remember  that  the  Bible  assures  us  that  '  God  is 
love  ; '  you  cannot  hate  Him." 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

THE  LEVER  THAT  MOVES  THE  WORLD. 

The  power  of  truth  can  scarcely  be  overestimated,  and 
the  mind  that  earnestly  seeks  it  becomes  noble  in  its  noble 
quest.  If  this  can  be  said  of  truth  in  the  abstract,  and  in 
its  humbler  manifestations,  how  omnipotent  truth  becomes 
in  its  grandest  culmination  and  embodied  in  a  being  capa- 
ble of  inspiring  our  profoundest  fear  and  deepest  love. 
One  may  accept  of  religious  forms  and  philosophies,  and 
be  little  changed  thereby.  One  may  be  perfectly  satu- 
rated with  ecclesiasticism,  and  still  continue  a  small-na- 
tured  man.  But  the  man  that  accepts  of  Jesus  Christ  as 
a  personal  and  living  teacher,  as  did  the  fishermen  of 
Galilee,  that  man  begins  to  grow  large  and  noble,  brave 
and  patient. 

Egbert  Haldane  has  been  sketched  as  an  ordinary 
youth.  There  are  thousands  like  him  who  have  been 
warped  and  marred  by  early  influences,  but  more  seri- 
ously injured  by  a  personal  and  willful  yielding  to  what- 
ever form  of  evil  proved  attractive.  The  majority  are 
not  so  unwary  or  so  unfortunate  as  he  was  ;  but  multi- 
tudes, for  whom  society  has  comparatively  little  criticism, 
are  more  vitiated  at  heart,  more  cold-blooded  and  deliber- 
ate in  their  evil.  One  may  form  a  base  character,  but 
maintain  an  outward  respectability  ;  but  let  him  not  be 
very  complacent  over  the  decorous  and  conventional 
veneer  which  masks  him  from  the  world.  If  one  imag- 
ines that  he  can  corrupt  his  own  soul  and  make  it  the 
abiding-place  of  foul  thoughts,  mean  impulses,  and 
shriveling  selfishness,  and  yet  go  forward  very  far  in 

332 


THE  LEVER    THAT  MOVES   THE    WORLD.    333 

God's  universe  without  meeting  overwhelming  disaster, 
he  will  find  himself  thoroughly  mistaken. 

The  sin  of  another  man  finds  him  out  in  swift  sequence 
upon  its  committal,  and  such  had  been  Haldane's  expe- 
rience. He  had  been  taught  promptly  the  nature  of  the 
harvest  which  evil  produces  inevitably. 

The  terrible  consequences  of  sin  prevent  and  deter 
from  it  in  many  instances,  but  they  have  no  very  great 
reformatory  power  it  would  seem.  Multitudes  to-day  are 
in  extremis  from  destroying  vices,  and  recognize  the  fact  ; 
but  so  far  from  reacting  upward  into  virtue,  even  after  vice 
(save  in  the  intent  of  the  heart)  has  ceased  to  be  possible, 
there  seems  to  be  a  moral  inertia  which  nothing  moves, 
or  a  reckless  and  increasing  impetus  downward. 

It  would  appear  that,  in  order  to  save  the  sinful,  a 
strong,  and  yet  gentle  and  loving,  hand  must  be  laid 
upon  them.  The  stern  grasp  of  justice,  the  grip  of  pain, 
law — human  and  divine — with  its  severe  penalties,  and 
conscience  re-echoing  its  thunders,  all  lead  too  often  to 
despondency,  recklessness,  and  despair.  It  would  be 
difficult  to  imagine  a  worse  hell  than  vice  often  digs  for 
its  votaries,  even  in  this  world  ;  and  in  spite  of  all  hu- 
man philosophies,  and  human  wishes  to  the  contrary,  it 
remains  a  fact  that  the  guilty  soul  trembles  at  a  worse 
hereafter,  and  yet  no  sufferings,  no  fears,  no  fate  can  so 
appall  as  to  turn  the  soul  from  its  infatuation  with  that 
which  is  destroying  it.  More  potent  than  commands, 
threats,  and  their  dire  fulfillment,  is  love,  which  wins 
and  entreats  back  to  virtue  the  man  whom  even  Omnip- 
otence could  not  drive  back. 

In  the  flood  God  overwhelmed  the  sinful  world  in  sud- 
den destruction,  but  the  race  continued  sinning  all  the 
same.  At  last  God  came  among  men,  and  shared  in 
their  lot  and  nature.  He  taught  them,  He  sympathized 
with  them.  He  loved  them.  He  died  for  them,  and  when 
the  wondrous  story  is  told  as  it  should  be,  the  most  reck- 


334   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

less  pause  to  listen,  the  most  callous  are  touched,  and 
those  who  would  otherwise  despair  in  their  guilt  are  led 
to  believe  that  there  is  a  heart  large  and  tender  enough 
to  pity  and  save  even  such  as  the  world  is  ready  to  spurn 
into  a  dishonored  grave. 

The  love  of  God  as  manifested  in  Christ  of  Nazareth 
is  doing  more  for  humanity  than  all  other  influences 
combined.  The  best  and  noblest  elements  of  our  civili- 
zation can  be  traced  either  directly  or  indirectly  to  Him, 
and  shadows  brood,  heavily  over  both  the  lands  and 
hearts  that  neither  know  nor  care  for  Him. 

It  would  seem,  then,  that  not  the  wrath  of  God,  but 
His  love,  is  most  effective  in  separating  men  from  the 
•evil  which  w^ould  otherwise  destroy  them.  God  could 
best  manifest  this  love  by  becoming  a  man  "made  like 
unto  His  brethren  ;"  for  the  love  of  God  is  ever  best 
taught  and  best  understood,  not  as  a  doctrine,  but  when 
embodied  in  some  large-hearted  and  ChristUke  person. 

Such  a  person  most  emphatically  was  Mrs,  Arnot,  and 
because  of  these  divine  characteristics  her  gentle,  wom- 
anly hand  became  more  potent  to  save  young  Haldane 
than  were  all  the  powers  of  evil  and  the  downward  im- 
petus of  a  bad  life  to  destroy. 

How  very  many,  like  him,  might  be  saved,  were 
more  women  of  tact  and  culture,  large-hearted  also 
and  walling  to  give  a  part  of  their  time  to  such  noble 
uses  ! 

By  a  personal  and  human  ministry,  the  method  that 
has  ever  been  most  effective  in  God's  providence,  Hal- 
dane was  at  last  brought  into  close,  intimate  relations 
■with  the  Divine  Teacher  Himself.  He  was  led  to  look 
away  from  his  own  fitful  emotions  and  vague  experiences 
to  One  who  was  his  strong  and  unchanging  friend.  He 
was  led  to  take  as  his  daily  guide  and  teacher  the  One 
who  developed  Peter  the  fisherman,  Paul  the  bigot, 
Luther  the  ignorant  monk,  into  what  they  eventually  be- 


THE  LEVER   THAT  MOVES  THE    WORLD.    335 

came,  and  it  was  not  strange,  therefore,  that  his  crude, 
misshapen  character  should  gradually  assume  the  out- 
hnes  of  moral  symmetry,  and  that  strength  should  take 
the  place  of  weakness.  He  commenced  to  learn  by  ex- 
perience the  truth  which  many  never  half  believe  that 
God  is  as  willing  to  lovingly  fashion  the  spiritual  life  of 
some  humble  follower,  as  He  is  to  shape  the  destiny  of 
those  who  are  to  be  famous  in  the  annals  of  the  church 
and  the  world. 

To  Haldane's  surprise  he  was  not  discharged  from  his 
humble  position  in  Mr.  Ivison's  employ,  and  the  expla- 
nation, which  soon  afterward  appeared,  gave  him  great 
encouragement.  The  man  whom  he  had  so  severely 
punished  in  his  outburst  of  passion,  vented  his  spite  by 
giving  to  the  Morning  Courier  an  exaggerated  and  dis- 
torted account  of  the  affair,  in  which  the  youth  was  made 
to  exchange  places  with  himself,  and  appear  as  a  coarse, 
quarrelsome  bully. 

When  Haldane's  attendon  was  called  to  the  paragraph 
his  face  flushed  with  indignation  as  he  read  it  ;  but  he 
threw  the  paper  down  and  went  to  his  w'ork  without  a 
word  of  comment.  He  had  already  about  despaired  of 
any  thing  like  justice  or  friendly  recognition  from  the 
public,  and  he  turned  from  this  additional  wrong  with  a 
feeling  not  far  removed  from  indifference.  He  was  learn- 
ing the  value  of  Mrs.  Arnot's  suggestion,  that  a  con- 
sciousness of  one's  own  integrity  can  do  more  to  sustain 
than  the  world's  opinion,  and  her  words  on  the  previous 
evening  had  taught  him  how  a  companionship,  and 
eventually  a  character,  might  be  won  that  could  com- 
pensate him  for  all  that  he  had  lost  or  might  suffer. 

His  persecutor  was,  therefore,  disappointed  in  seeing 
how  litde  annoyance  his  spite  occasioned,  nor  was  his 
equanimity  increased  by  a  message  from  Mr.  Ivison  or- 
dering his  instant  discharge. 

The  following  morning  the  foreman  of  the  room  in 


336   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

which  Haldane  worked  came  to  him  with  quite  a  show 
of  friendhness,  and  said  : 

"  It  seems  ye're  in  luck,  for  the  boss  takes  an  interest 
in  ye.     Read  that;  I  wouldn't  a'  thought  it." 

Hope  sprang  up  anew  in  the  young  man's  breast  as  he 
read  the  following  words  : 

Editor  Courier. — Dear  Sir : — You  will  doubtless  give  space 
for  this  correction  in  regard  to  the  fracas  which  took  place  in 
my  factory  a  day  or  two  since.  You,  with  all  right-minded 
men,  surely  desire  that  no  injustice  should  be  done  to  any  one 
in  any  circumstances.  Very  great  injustice  was  done  to  young 
Haldane  in  your  issue  of  to-day.  I  have  taken  pains  to  inform 
myself  accurately,  and  have  learned  that  he  patiently  submitted 
to  a  petty  persecution  for  a  long  time,  and  at  last  gave  way  to 
natural  anger  under  a  provocation  such  as  no  man  of  spirit 
could  endure.  His  tormentor,  a  coarse,  ill-conditioned  fellow, 
was  justly  punished,  and  I  have  discharged  him  from  my  em- 
ploy. I  have  nothing  to  offer  in  extenuation  of  young  Haldane's 
past  faults,  and,  if  I  remember  correctly,  the  press  of  the  city 
has  always  been  fully  as  severe  upon  him  as  the  occasion  de- 
manded. If  any  further  space  is  given  to  his  fortunes,  justice 
at  least,  not  to  say  a  little  encouraging  kindness,  should  be 
accorded  to  him,  as  well  as  severity.  It  should  be  stated  that 
for  weeks  he  has  been  trying  to  earn  an  honest  livelihood,  and 
in  a  situation  peculiarly  trying  to  him.  I  have  been  told  that 
he  sincerely  wishes  to  reform  and  live  a  cleanly  and  decent  life, 
and  I  have  obtained  evidence  that  satisfies  me  of  the  truth  of 
this  report.  It  appears  to  me  that  it  is  as  mean  a  thing  for  news- 
papers to  strike  a  man  who  is  down,  but  who  is  endeavoring  to 
rise  again,  as  it  is  for  an  individual  to  do  so,  and  I  am  sure  that 
you  will  not  consciously  permit  your  journal  to  give  any  such 
sinister  blow.  Respectfully  yours, 

John  Ivison. 

In  editorial  comment  came  the  following  brief  remark  : 

We  gladly  give  Mr.  Ivison's  communication  a  prominent 
place.  It  is  not  our  intention  to  "  strike  "  any  one,  but  merely 
to  record  each  day's  events  as  they  come  to  us.  With  the  best 
intentions  mistakes  are  sometimes  made.  We  have  no  possible 
motive  for  not  wishing  young  Haldane  well — we  do  wish  him 
success  in  achieving  a  better  future  than  his  past  actions  have 
led  us  to  expect.  The  city  would  be  much  better  off  if  all  of  his 
class  were  equally  ready  to  go  to  work. 


THE  LEVER   THAT  310 VES  THE    WORLD.    337 

Here  at  least  was  some  recognition.  The  fact  that  he 
was  working,  and  willing  to  work,  had  been  plainly  stated, 
and  this  fact  is  an  essential  foundation-stone  in  the  build- 
ing up  of  a  reputation,  which  the  world  will  respect. 

Although  the  discharge  of  the  leading  persecutor,  and 
Mr.  Ivison's  letter,  did  not  add  to  Haldane's  popularity 
at  the  mill,  they  led  to  his  being  severely  let  alone  at 
first,  and  an  increasingly  frank  and  affable  manner  on 
the  part  of  the  young  man,  as  he  gained  in  patience  and 
serenity,  gradually  disarmed  those  who  were  not  vindictive 
and  blind  from  prejudice. 

Poor  Mrs.  Haldane  seemed  destined  to  be  her  son's 
evil  genius  to  the  end.  When  people  take  a  false  view 
of  life  there  seems  a  fatality  in  all  their  actions.  The 
very  fact  that  they  are  not  in  accord  with  what  is  right 
and  true  causes  the  most  important  steps  of  their  lives  to 
appear  ill-timed,  injudicious,  and  unnatural.  That  they 
are  well-meaning  and  sincere  does  not  help  matters  much, 
if  both  tact  and  sound  principles  are  wanting.  Mrs. 
Haldane  belonged  to  the  class  that  are  sure  that  every 
thing  is  right  which  seems  right  to  them.  True,  it  was 
a  queer  little  jumble  of  religious  prejudices  and  con- 
ventional notions  that  combined  to  produce  her  con- 
clusions ;  but  when  once  they  were  reached,  no  matter 
how  absurd  or  defective  they  appeared  to  others,  she  had 
no  more  doubt  of  them  than  of  the  Copernican  system. 

Her  motherly  feelings  had  made  her  willing  to  take 
her  son  to  some  hiding-place  in  Europe  ;  but  since  that 
could  not  be,  and  perhaps  was  not  best,  she  had  thor- 
oughly settled  it  in  her  mind  that  he  should  accept  of  her 
offer  and  live  at  her  expense  the  undemonstrative  life  of 
an  oyster  in  the  social  and  moral  ooze  of  the  obscurest 
mud-bank  he  could  find.  In  this  way  the  terrible  world 
might  be  led  to  eventually  leave  off  talking  and 
thinking  of  the  Haldane  family — a  consummation  that 
appeared  to  her  worth  any  sacrifice.     When  the  morn- 


338  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ing  paper  brought  another  vile  story  (copied  fror:* 
the  Hillaton  Courier)  of  her  son's  misdoings,  her  adverse 
view  of  his  plans  and  character  was  confirmed  beyond 
the  shadow  of  a  doubt.  She  felt  that  there  was  a  fatality 
about  the  place  and  its  associations  for  him,  and  her  one 
hope  was  to  get  him  away. 

She  cut  the  article  from  the  paper,  and  inclosed  it  to 
him  with  the  accompanying  note  : 

We  go  to  New  York  this  afternoon,  and  sail  for  Europe  to- 
morrow. You  send  us  in  parting  a  characteristic  souvenir, 
which  I  return  to  you.  The  scenes  and  associations  indicated 
in  this  disgraceful  paragraph  seem  more  to  your  taste  than  those 
which  your  family  have  hitherto  enjoyed  as  their  right  for  many 
generations.  While  this  remains  true,  you,  of  necessity,  cut 
yourself  off  from  your  kindred,  and  we,  who  are  most  closely 
connected,  must  remain  where  our  names  cannot  be  associated 
with  yours.  I  still  cherish  the  hope,  however,  that  you  may 
find  the  way  of  the  transgressor  so  hard  that  you  will  be  brought 
by  your  bitter  experience  to  accept  of  my  offer  and  give  the 
world  a  chance  to  forget  your  folly  and  wickedness.  When  you 
will  do  this  in  good  faith  (and  my  lawyer  will  see  that  it -is 
done  in  good  faith),  you  may  draw  on  him  for  the  means  of  a 
comfortable  support. 

In  bitter  shame  and  sorrow,  your  mother, 

Emily  Haldane. 

This  letter  was  a  severe  blow  to  her  son  for  it  contained 
the  last  words  of  the  mother  that  he  might  not  see  for 
years.  While  he  felt  it  to  be  cruelly  unjust  to  him  and 
his  present  aims,  he  was  calm  enough  now  to  see  that  the 
distorted  paragraph  which  led  to  it  fitted  in  only  too  well 
with  the  past,  and  so  had  the  coloring  of  truth.  When 
incHned  to  blame  his  mother  for  not  waiting  for  his  ver- 
sions of  these  miserable  events  and  accepting  of  them 
alone,  he  was  compelled  to  remember  that  she  was  in 
part  awakened  from  her  blind  idolatry  of  him  by  the  dis- 
covery of  his  efforts  to  deceive  her  in  regard  to  his  in- 
creasing dissipation.  Even  before  he  had  entered  Mr. 
Arnot's  counting-room  he  had  taught  her  to  doubt  his 


THE  LEVER    THAT  MOVES  THE    WORLD.    339 

■word,  and  now  she  had  evidently  lost  confidence  in  him 
utterly.  He  foresaw  that  this  confidence  could  be  re- 
gained only  by  years  of  patient  well-doing,  and  that  she 
might  incline  to  believe  in  him  more  slowly  even  than 
comparative  strangers.  But  he  was  not  disposed  to  be 
very  angry  and  resentful,  for  he  now  had  but  little  con- 
fidence in  himself.  He  had  been  led,  however,  by  his 
bitter  experience  and  by  Mrs.  Arnot's  faithful  ministry  to 
adopt  that  lady's  brief  but  comprehensive  creed.  He 
was  learning  to  trust  in  Christ  as  an  all-powerful  and 
personal  friend  ;  he  was  daily  seeking  to  grasp  the  prin- 
■ciples  which  Christ  taught,  but  more  clearly  acted  out, 
and  which  are  essential  to  the  formation  of  a  noble  char- 
acter. He  had  thus  complied  with  the  best  conditions  of 
spiritual  growth  ;  and  the  crude  elements  of  his  character, 
which  had  been  rendered  more  chaotic  by  evil,  slowly  be- 
gan to  shape  themselves  into  the  symmetry  of  a  true  man. 

In  regard  to  his  mother's  letter,  all  that  he  could  do 
was  to  inclose  to  her,  with  the  request  that  it  be  for- 
warded, Mr.  Ivison's  defense  of  him,  which  appeared  in 
the  Courier  oi  the  following  morning. 

"  You  perceive,"  he  wrote,  "  that  a  stranger  has  taken 
pains  to  inform  himself  correctly  in  regard  to  the  facts 
of  the  case,  and  that  he  has  for  me  some  charity  and  hope. 
T  do  not  excuse  the  wrong  of  my  action  on  that  occasion 
or  on  any  other,  but  I  do  wish,  and  I  am  trying,  to  do 
better,  and  I  hope  to  prove  the  same  to  you  by  years  of 
patient  effort.  I  may  fail  miserably,  however,  as  you 
evidently  believe.  The  fact  that  my  folly  and  wicked- 
ness have  driven  you  and  my  sisters  into  exile,  is  a  very 
great  sorrow  to  me,  but  compliance  with  your  request 
that  I  should  leave  Hillaton  and  go  into  hiding  would 
bring  no  remedy  at  all.  I  know  that  I  should  do  worse 
anywhere  else,  and  my  self-respect  and  conscience  both 
require  that  I  should  fight  the  battle  of  my  life  out  here 
where  I  have  suffered  such  disgraceful  defeat." 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

MR.    GROWTHER    "STUMPED." 

About  three  weeks  after  the  occasion  upon  which 
Haldane's  human  nature  had  manifested  itself  in  such  a 
disastrous  manner  as  he  had  supposed,  Mrs.  Arnot,  Dr. 
Barstow,  and  Mr.  Ivison  happened  to  find  themselves  to- 
gether at  an  evening  company. 

"  I  have  been  wishing  to  thank  you,  Mr.  Ivison,"  said 
the  lady,  "for  your  just  and  manly  letter  in  regard  to- 
young  Haldane.  I  think  it  encouraged  him  very  much, 
and  has  given  him  more  hopefulness  in  his  work.  How 
has  he  been  doing  of  late  ?  The  only  reply  he  makes  to- 
my  questioning  is,  '  I  am  plodding  on.'  " 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Mr.  Ivison,  "I  am  beginning 
to  take  quite  an  interest  in  that  young  fellow.  He  has 
genuine  pluck.  You  cannot  understand,  Mrs.  Arnot, 
what  an  ordeal  he  has  passed  through.  He  is  naturally 
as  mettlesome  as  a  young  colt,  and  yet  day  after  day  he 
was  subjected  to  words  and  actions  that  were  to  him  hke 
the  cut  of  a  whip." 

"Mr.  Ivison,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  a  sudden 
moisture  coming  into  her  eyes,  "  I  have  long  felt  the 
deepest  interest  in  this  young  man.  In  judging  any  one 
I  try  to  consider  not  only  what  he  does,  but  all  the  cir- 
cumstances attending  upon  his  action.  Knowing  Hal- 
dane's antecedents,  and  how  peculiarly  unfitted  he  was 
by  early  life  and  training  for  his  present  trials,  I  think 
his  course  since  he  was  last  released  from  prison  has  been 
very  brave,"  and  she  gave  a  brief  sketch  of  his  life  and 
mental  states,  as  far  as  a  delicate  regard  for  his  feelings 
permitted,  from  that  date. 

340 


3IE.    GROWTHER    '' STU3IPED.''  341 

Dr.  Barstovv,  in  his  turn,  also  became  interested  in  the 
youth,  not  only  for  his  own  sake,  but  also  in  the  workings 
of  his  mind  and  his  spiritual  experiences.  It  was  the  good 
doctor's  tendency  to  analyze  every  thing  and  place  all 
psychological  manifestations  under  their  proper  theolog- 
ical heads. 

"  I  feel  that  I  indirectly  owe  this  youth  a  large  debt  of 
gratitude,  since  his  coming  to  our  church  and  his  repulse, 
in  the  first  instance,  has  led  to  decided  changes  for  the 
better  in  us  all,  I  trust.  But  his  experience,  as  you  have 
related  it,  raises  some  perplexing  questions.  Do  you 
think  he  is  a  Christian  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.     I  think  he  is,"  replied  Mrs.  Arnot. 

"  When  do  you  think  he  became  a  Christian?  " 

"  Still  less  can  I  answer  that  question  definitely." 

"But  would  not  one  naturally  think  it  was  when  he 
was  conscious  of  that  happy  change  in  the  study  of  good 
old  Dr.  Marks?" 

"Poor  Haldane  has  been  conscious  of  many  changes 
and  experiences,  but  I  do  not  despise  or  make  light  of 
any  of  them.  It  is  certainly  sensible  to  believe  that  every 
effect  has  a  cause  ;  and  for  one  I  believe  that  these 
strange,  mystical,  and  often  rich  and  rapturous  experi- 
ences, are  largely  and  perhaps  wholly  caused  in  many 
instances  by  the  direct  action  of  God's  Spirit  on  the 
human  spirit.  Again,  it  would  seem  that  men's  religious 
natures  are  profoundly  stirred  by  human  and  earthly 
causes,  for  the  emotion  ceases  with  the  cause.  It  appears 
to  me  that  if  people  would  only  learn  to  look  at  these  ex- 
periences in  a  sensible  way,  they  would  be  the  better  and 
wiser  for  them.  We  are  thus  taught  what  a  grand  instru- 
ment the  soul  is,  and  of  what  divine  harmonies  and  pro- 
found emodons  it  is  capable  when  played  upon  by  any 
adequate  power.  To  expect  to  maintain  this  exaltation 
Avith  our  present  nature  is  like  requiring  of  the  athlete 
that  he  never  relax  his  muscles,  or  of  the  prima  donna 


342   KNIGUT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

that  she  never  cease  the  exquisite  trill  ^vhich  is  but  the 
momentary  proof  of  what  her  present  organization  is 
capable.  And  yet  it  would  appear  that  many,  like  poor 
Haldane,  are  tempted  on  one  hand  to  entertain  no 
Christian  hope  because  they  cannot  produce  these  deep 
and  happy  emotions  ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  to  give  up 
Christian  hope  because  these  emotions  cease  in  the  inevi- 
table reaction  that  follows  them.  In  my  opinion  it  is 
when  we  accept  of  Christ  as  Saviour  and  Guide  we  be- 
come Christians,  and  a  Christian  life  is  the  maintenance 
of  this  simple  yet  vital  relationship.  We  thus  continue 
branches  of  the  '  true  vine.'  I  think  Haldane  has  formed 
this  relationship," 

"  It  would  seem  from  your  account  that  he  had  formed 
it,  consciously,  but  a  very  brief  time  since,"  said  Dr. 
Barstow,  "  and  yet  for  weeks  previous  he  had  been  put- 
ting forth  what  closely  resembles  Christian  effort,  exer- 
cising Christian  forbearance,  and  for  a  time  at  least  en- 
joying happy  spiritual  experiences.  Can  you  believe  that 
all  this  is  possible  to  one  who  is  yet  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Dr.  Barstow,  I  cannot  apply  your  syste- 
matic theology  to  all  of  God's  creatures  any  more  than  I 
could  apply  a  rigid  and  carefully  lined-out  system  of 
parental  affection  and  government  to  your  household,  I 
know  that  you  love  all  of  your  children,  both  when  they 
are  good  and  when  they  are  bad,  and  that  you  are  ever 
trying  to  help  the  naughty  ones  to  be  better.  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  that  I  could  learn  more  sound  theology  on 
these  points  in  your  nursery  and  dining-room  than  in 
your  study.  I  am  sure,  however,  that  God  does  not  wait 
till  His  little  bewildered  children  reach  a  certain  theolog- 
ical mile-stone  before  reaching  out  His  hand  to  guide  and 
help  them." 

"  You  are  both  better  theologians  than  I  am,"  said  Mr. 
Ivison,  "  and  I  shall  not  enter  the  lists  with  you  on  that 


3IR.    GROWTHEE   "STUJTPED.'^  343 

ground  ;  but  I  know  what  mill-life  is  to  one  of  bis  caste 
and  feeling,  and  his  taking  such  work,  and  bis  sticking 
to  it  under  the  circumstances,  is  an  exhibition  of  more 
pluck  than  most  young  men  possess.  And  yet  it  was  his 
only  chance,  for  when  people  get  down  as  low  as  be  was 
they  must  take  any  honest  work  in  order  to  obtain  a  foot- 
hold. Even  now,  burdened  as  he  is  by  an  evil  name,  it 
is  difficult  to  see  how  he  can  rise  any  higher." 

"  Could  you  not  give  him  a  clerkship.''"  asked  Mrs. 
Arnot. 

"  No,  I  could  not  introduce  him  among  my  other 
clerks.     They  would  resent  it  as  an  insult." 

"  You  could  do  this,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  with  a  slight 
flush,  "  but  I  do  not  urge  it  or  even  ask  it.  You  are  in  a 
position  to  show  great  and  generous  kindness  toward  this 
young  man.  As  He  who  was  highest  stooped  to  the  low- 
liest, so  those  high  in  station  and  influence  can  often 
stoop  to  the  humble  and  fallen  with  a  better  grace  than 
those  nearer  to  them  in  rank.  If  you  believe  this  young 
man  is  now  trustworthy,  and  that  trusting  him  would 
make  him  still  more  so,  you  could  give  him  a  desk  in 
your  private  office,  and  thus  teach  your  clerks  a  larger 
charity.  The  influential  and  assured  in  position  must 
often  take  the  lead  in  these  matters." 

Mr.  Ivison  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said  : 
"  Your  proposition  is  unusual,  Mrs.  Arnot,  but  I'll  think 
of  it.     I  make  no  promises,  however." 

"  Mr.  Ivison,"  added  Mrs.  Arnot,  in  her  smiling,  happy 
way,  "  I  hope  you  may  make  a  great  deal  of  money  out 
of  your  business  this  year  ;  but  if,  by  means  of  it,  you 
can  also  aid  in  making  a  good  and  true  man,  you  will  be 
still  better  off.  Dr.  Barstow  here  can  tell  you  how  sure 
such  investments  are." 

"  If  I  should  follow  your  lead  and  that  of  Dr.  Barstow, 
all  my  real  estate  would  be  in  the  'Celestial  City,'  " 
laughed  Mr.  Ivison.     "  But  I  have  a  special  admiration 


344   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

for  the  grace  of  clear  grit,  and  this  young  fellow,  in  de- 
clining his  mother's  offer  and  trying  to  stand  on  his  feet 
here  in  Hillaton,  where  every  one  is  ready  to  tread  him 
down,  shows  pluck,  whatever  else  is  wanting.  I've  had 
my  eye  on  him  for  some  time,  and  I'm  about  satisfied 
he's  trying  to  do  right.  But  it  is  difficult  to  know  what 
to  do  for  one  with  his  ugly  reputation.  I  will  see  what 
can  be  done,  however." 

That  same  evening  chilly  autumn  winds  were  blow- 
ing without,  and  Mr.  Growther's  passion  for  a  wood  fire 
upon  the  hearth  was  an  indulgence  to  which  Haldane  no 
longer  objected.  The  frugal  supper  was  over,  and  the 
two  oddly  diverse  occupants  of  the  quaint  old  kitchen 
glowered  at  the  red  coals  in  silence,  each  busy  with  his  own 
thoughts.  At  last  Haldane  gave  a  long  deep  sigh,  which 
drew  to  him  at  once  Mr.  Growther's  small  twinkling  eyes. 

"Tough  old  world,  isn't  it,  for  sinners  like  us?"  he 
remarked. 

"  Well.  Mr.  Growther,  I've  got  rather  tired  of  inveigh- 
ing against  the  world  ;  I'm  coming  to  think  that  the 
trouble  is  largely  with  myself." 

"  Umph  !  "  snarled  the  old  man,  "  I've  allers  knowed 
the  trouble  was  with  me,  for  of  all  crabbed,  cranky, 
cantankerous,  old — " 

"  Hold  on,"  cried  Haldane,  laughing,  "  don't  you  re- 
member what  Mrs.  Arnot  said  about  being  unjust  to  one's 
self?  The  only  person  that  I  have  ever  known  you  to 
wrong  is  Jeremiah  Growther,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  you 
do  treat  him  outrageously  sometimes." 

At  the  name  of  Mrs.  Arnot  the  old  man's  face  softened 
and  he  rubbed  his  hands  together  as  he  chuckled,  "  How 
Satan  must  hate  that  woman  ! 

"  I  was  in  hopes  that  her  words  might  lead  you  to  be  a 
little  juster  to  yourself,"  continued  Haldane,  "  and  it  has 
seemed  to  me  that  you,  as  well  as  I,  have  been  in  a  bet- 
ter mood  of  late." 


MR.    GEOWTHER    ''STUMPED.''  345 

"  I  don't  take  no  stock  in  myself  at  all,"  said  Mr. 
Growther  emphatically.  "  I'm  a  crooked  stick  and  allers: 
^vill  be — a  reg'lar  old  gnarled  knotty  stick,  with  not  'nuff 
good  timber  in  it  to  make  a  penny  whistle.  That  1 
haven't  been  in  as  (fussin'  a  state  as  usual,  isn't  because 
I  think  any  better  of  myself,  but  your  Mrs.  Arnot  has 
set  me  a-thinkin'  on  a  new  track.  She  come  to  see  me 
one  day  while  you  was  at  the  mill,  and  we  had  a  real 
speret'al  tussel.  I  argufied  my  case  in  such  a  way  that 
she  couldn't  git  round  it,  and  I  proved  to  her  that  I  was 
the  dryest  and  crookedest  old  stick  that  ever  the  devil 
twisted  out  o'  shape  when  it  was  a-growin'.  On  a  sud- 
dent  she  turned  the  argerment  agin  me  in  a  way  that  has 
stumped  me  ever  since.  '  You  are  right,  Mr.  Growther,* 
she  said,  '  it  was  the  devil  and  not  the  Lord  that  twisted 
you  out  of  shape.     Now  who's  the  stronger,'  she  says,. 

•  and  who's  goin'  to  have  his  own  way  in  the  end  ?  Sup- 
pose you  are  very  crooked,  won't  the  Lord  get  all  the 
more  glory  in  making  you  straight,  and  won't  His  victory- 
be  all  the  greater  over  the  evil  one?'  Says  I, 'Mrs. 
Arnot,  that's  puttin*  my  case  in  a  new  light.  If  I  should 
be  straightened  out,  it  would  be  the  awfulest  set  back  Old 
Nick  ever  had  ;  and  if  such  a  thing  should  happen  he'd 
never  feel  sure  of  any  one  after  that.'  Then  she  turned 
on  me  kinder  sharp,  and  says  she,  '  What  right  have  you 
to  say  that  God  is  allers  lookin*  round  for  easy  work?' 
What  would  you  think  of  a  doctor  who  would  take  only 
slight  cases,  and  have  nothing  to  do  with  people  who- 
were  gittin'  dangerous-like  ?  Isn't  Jesus  Christ  the  great 
physician,  and  don't  your  common  sense  tell  you  that  He 
is  jist  as  able  to  cure  you  as  a  little  child  ? ' 

"I  declare  I  was  stumped.  Like  that  ill-mannered 
cuss  in  the  Scripter  who  thought  his  old  clothes  good 
enough  for  the  weddin',  I  was  speechless. 

"  But  I  got  a  worse  knock  down  than  that.     Says  she,. 

•  Mr.  Growther,  I  will  not  dispute  all  the  hard  things  you 


346   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

have  said  of  yourself  (you  see  I  had  beat  her  on  that 
line  of  argerment)  ;  I  won't  dispute  all  that  you  say  (and 
I  felt  a  little  sot  up  agin,  for  I  didn't  know  what  she  was 
a-drivin*  at),  but,'  says  she,  '  I  think  you've  got  some 
jiatural  feelin's.  Suppose  you  had  a  little  son,  and  while 
lie  was  out  in  the  street  a  wicked  man  should  carry  him 
•off  and  treat  him  so  cruelly  that,  instead  of  growin'  to  be 
-Strong  and  fine-lookin',  he  should  become  a  puny  de- 
formed httle  critter.  Suppose  at  last  you  should  hear 
-where  he  was,  and  that  he  was  longin'  to  escape  from  the 
•cruel  hands  of  his  harsh  master,  who  kept  on  a-treatin' 
of  him  worse  and  worse,  would  you,  his  father,  go  and 
coolly  look  at  him  and  say,  "  If  you  was  only  a  hand- 
some boy,  with  a  strong  mind  in  a  strong  body,  I'd  de- 
liver you  out  of  this  tyrant's  clutches  and  take  you  back 
to  be  my  son  again  ;  but  since  you  are  a  poor,  weak, 
•deformed  little  critter,  that  can  never  do  much,  or  be 
much,  I'll  leave  you  here  to  be  abused  and  tormented  as 
'before," — is  that  what  you  would  do,  Mr.  Growther  ? ' 

"  Well,  she  spoke  it  all  so  earnest  and  real-like  that  I 
;got  off  my  guard,  and  I  jist  riz  right  up  from  my  cheer, 
-and  I  got  hold  of  my  heavy  old  cane  there,  and  it  seemed 
.as  if  my  hair  stood  right  up  on  end,  I  was  that  mad  at 
the  old  curmudgeon  that  had  my  boy,  and  I  half  shouts, 
'  No  !  that  ain't  what  I'd  do.  I'd  go  for  that  cuss  that 
stole  my  boy,  and  for  every  blow  he'd  given  the  little 
chap,  I'd  give  him  a  hundred.' 

"  ♦  But  what  would  you  do  with  the  poor  little  boy  ?  ' 
she  asks.  At  that  I  began  to  choke,  my  feelin's  was  so 
stirred  up,  and  moppin'  my  eyes,  I  said,  '  Poor  little 
•chap,  all  beaten  and  abused  out  o'  shape  !  What  would 
I  do  with  him?  Why,  I  couldn't  do 'nuff  for  him  in 
tryin'  to  make  him  forget  all  the  hard  times  he'd  had.' 
Then  says  she,  '  You  would  twit  the  child  with  bein' 
A\'eak,  puny,  and  deformed,  would  you?'  I  was  now 
ihobblin'  up  and  down  the  room  in  a  great  state  of  excite- 


J/i?.    GROWTHER    ''STUMPED.''  347 

ment,  and  says  I,  '  Mrs.  Arnot,  mean  a  man  as  I  am,  I. 
wouldn't  treat  any  human  critter  so,  let  alone  my  own 
flesh  and  blood,  that  had  been  so  abused  that  it  makes- 
my  heart  ache  to  think  on't.' 

"  '  Don't  you  think  you  would  love  the  boy  a  little  even 
though  he  had  a  hump  on  his  back  and  his  features  were 
thin  and  sharp  and  pale  ?  '  '  Mrs.  Arnot,'  says  I,  mop- 
pin'  my  eyes  agin,  •  if  you  say  another  word  about  the 
little  chap  I  shall  be  struck  all  of  a  heap,  fur  my  heart 
jist  kinder — kinder  pains  like  a  toothache  to  do  somethin* 
for  him.*  Then  all  of  a  suddent  she  turns  on  me  sharp- 
agin,  and  says  she,  '  I  think  you  are  a  very  inconsistent 
man,  Mr.  Growther.  You  have  been  runnin'  yourself 
down,  and  yet  you  claim  to  be  better  than  your  Maker^ 
He  calls  Himself  our  Heavenly  Father,  and  yet  you  are 
sure  that  you  have  a  kinder  and  more  fatherly  heart  than 
He.  You  are  one  of  His  little,  weak,  deformed  children^ 
twisted  all  out  of  shape,  as  you  have  described,  by  His 
enemy  and  yours,  and  yet  you  the  same  as  say  that  you 
would  act  a  great  deal  more  like  a  true  father  toward 
your  child  than  He  will  toward  His.  You  virtually  say 
that  you  would  rescue  your  child  and  be  pitiful  and  ten- 
der toward  him,  but  that  your  Heavenly  Father  will  leave 
you  in  the  clutches  of  the  cruel  enemy,  or  exact  condi- 
tions that  you  cannot  comply  with  before  doing  any  thing 
for  you.  Haven't  you  read  in  the  Bible  that  "  Like  as  a 
father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that 
fear  Him  "  ?  You  think  very  meanly  of  yourself,  but  you 
appear  to  think  more  meanly  of  God.  Where  is  your 
warrant  for  doing  so?  ' 

"  The  truth  bust  in  on  me  like  the  sunlight  into  this  old 
kitchen  when  we  open  the  shutters  of  a  summer  mornin', 
I  saw  that  I  was  so  completely  floored  in  the  argerment„ 
and  had  made  such  a  blasted  old  fool  of  myself  all  these 
years  that  I  just  looked  around  for  a  knot-hole  to  crawl 
into.     I  didn't  know  which  way  to  look,  but  at  last  I 


348   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

looked  at  her,  and  my  withered  old  heart  gave  a  great 
thump  when  I  saw  two  tears  a-standin*  in  her  eyes.  Then 
she  jumps  up  and  gives  me  that  warm  hand  o'  her'n  and 
says  :  '  Mr.  Growther,  whenever  you  wish  to  know  how 
God  feels  toward  you,  think  how  you  felt  toward  that  lit- 
tle chap  that  was  abused  and  beaten  all  out  o'  shape,' 
and  she  was  gone.  Well,  the  upshot  of  it  all  is  that  I 
don't  think  a  bit  better  of  myself — not  one  bit — but  that 
weakly  little  chap,  with  a  peaked  face  and  a  hump  on 
his  back,  that  Mrs.  Arnot  made  so  real-like  that  I  see 
him  a-lookin'  at  me  out  of  the  cheer  there  half  the  time — 
he's  a  makin'  me  better  acquainted  with  the  Lord,  for 
the  Lord  knows  I've  got  a  hump  on  my  back  and  humps 
all  over  ;  but  I  keep  a-sayin'  to  myself,  '  Like  as  a  father 
pitieth  his  children,'  and  I  don't  feel  near  as  much  like 
cussin'  as  I  used  to.  That  little  chap  that  Mrs.  Arnot 
described  is  doin'  me  a  sight  o'  good,  and  if  I  could  find 
some  poor  little  critter  just  like  him,  with  no  one  to  look 
after  him,  I'd  take  him  in  and  do  for  him  in  a  minit." 

"Mr.  Growther,"  said  Haldane,  huskily,  "you  have 
found  that  poor  misshapen,  dwarfed  creature  that  I  fear 
will  never  attain  the  proportions  of  a  true  man.  Of 
course  you  see  through  Mrs.  Arnot' s  imagery.  In  be- 
friending me  you  are  caring  for  one  who  is  weak  and 
puny  indeed." 

"  Oh,  you  won't  answer,"  said  Mr.  Growther  with  a 
laugh.  "I  can  see  that  your  humps  is  growin'  wisibly 
less  every  day,  and  you're  too  big  and  broad-shouldered 
for  me  to  be  a  pettin'  and  a  yearnin'  over.  I  want  jest 
such  a  peaked  little  chap  as  Mrs.  Arnot  pictured  out, 
and  that's  doin'  me  such  a  sight  o'  good." 

Again  the  two  occupants  of  the  old  kitchen  gazed  at 
the  fire  for  a  long  time  in  silence,  and  again  there  came 
from  the  young  man  the  same  long-drawn  sigh  that  had 
attracted  Mr.  Growther's  attention  before. 
'That's  the  second  time,"  he  remarked. 


MR.    GROWTHER    ''STUMPED.''  349 

"I  was  thinking,"  said  Haldane,  rising  to  retire, 
"  whether  I  shall  ever  have  better  work  than  this  odious 
routine  at  the  mill." 

Mr,  Growther  pondered  over  the  question  a  few  min- 
utes, and  then  said  sententiously  :  "  I'm  inclined  to  think 
the  Lord  gives  us  as  good  work  as  we're  cap'ble  of  doin'. 
He'll  promote  you  when  you've  growed  a  little  more." 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

GROWTH. 

The  next  morning  Haldane  received  a  message  direct- 
ing him  to  report  at  Mr.  Ivison's  private  office  during  the 
noon  recess. 

"Be  seated,"  said  that  gentleman  as  the  young  man, 
•wearing  an  anxious  and  somewhat  surprised  expression, 
■entered  hesitatingly  and  diffidently.  "  You  need  not 
look  so  troubled.  I  have  not  sent  for  you  to  find  fault — 
•quite  the  reverse.  You  have  '  a  friend  at  court,'  as  the 
saying  goes.  Not  that  you  needed  one  particularly,  for 
I  have  had  my  eye  upon  you  myself,  and  for  some  days 
past  have  been  inclined  to  give  you  a  lift.  But  last  even- 
ing Mrs.  Arnot  spoke  in  your  behalf,  and  through  her 
words  I  have  been  led  to  take  the  following  step.  For 
reasons  that  perhaps  you  can  understand,  it  would  be 
difficult  for  me  to  give  you  a  desk  among  my  other 
•clerks.  I  am  not  so  sensitive,  now  that  I  know  your  bet- 
ter aims,  and  it  is  my  wish  that  you  take  that  desk  there, 
in  this,  my  private  office.  Your  duties  will  be  very  mis- 
cellaneous. Sometimes  I  shall  employ  you  as  my  errand- 
boy,  again  I  may  intrust  you  with  important  and  confi- 
dential business.  I  stipulate  that  you  perform  the  hum- 
blest task  as  readily  as  any  other." 

Haldane' s  face  flushed  with  pleasure,  and  he  said 
warmly,  "  I  am  not  in  a  position,  sir,  to  consider  any 
honest  work  beneath  me,  and  after  your  kindness  I  shall 
regard  any  service  I  can  render  you  as  a  privilege." 

"A  neat  answer,"  laughed  Mr.  Ivison.  "If  you  do 
your  work  as  well  I  shall  be  satisfied.  Pluck  and  good 
sense  will  make  a  man  of  you  yet.     I  want  you  to  under- 


GROWTH.  351 

stand  distinctly  that  it  has  been  your  readiness  and  de- 
termination, not  only  to  work,  but  to  do  any  kind  of 
work,  that  has  won  my  good-will.  Here's  a  check  for  a 
month's  salary  in  advance.  Be  here  to-morrow  at  nine, 
dressed  suitably  for  your  new  position.     Good  morning." 

■"  Halloo!  What's  happened?"  asked  Mr.  Growther 
as  Haldane  came  in  that  evening  with  face  aglow  with 
gladness  and  excitement. 

"  According  to  your  theory  I've  been  promoted  sure," 
laughed  the  youth,  and  he  related  the  unexpected  event 
of  the  day. 

"That's  jest  like  Mrs.  Arnot,"  said  Mr.  Growther,  rub- 
bing his  hands  as  he  ever  did  when  pleased  ;  "  she's  allers 
givin'  some  poor  critter  a  boost.  T'other  day  'twas  me, 
now  agin  it's  you,  and  they  say  she's  helpin'  lots  more 
along.  St.  Peter  will  have  to  open  the  gate  wide  when 
she  comes  in  with  her  crowd.  'Pears  to  me  sometimes 
that  I  can  fairly  hear  Satan  a-gnashin'  of  his  teet-h  over 
that  woman.     She's  the  wust  enemy  he  has  in  town." 

"  I  wish  I  might  show  her  how  grateful  I  am  some 
day,"  said  Haldane,  with  moistened  eyes  ;  "  but  I  clearly 
foresee  that  I  can  never  repay  her." 

"  No  matter  if  you  can't,"  replied  the  old  man.  "  She 
don't  want  any  pay.     It's  her  natur'  to  do  these  things." 

Haldane  gave  his  whole  mind  to  the  mastery  of  his 
new  duties,  and  after  a  few  natural  blunders  speedily  ac- 
quired a  facility  in  the  diverse  tasks  allotted  him.  In  a 
manner  that  was  perfectly  unobtrusive  and  respectful  he 
watched  his  employer,  studied  his  methods  and  habit  of 
mind,  and  thus  gained  the  power  of  anticipating  his 
wishes.  Mr.  Ivison  began  to  find  his  office  and  papers 
kept  in  just  the  order  he  liked,  the  temperature  main- 
tained at  a  pleasant  medium,  and  to  receive  many  little 
nameless  attentions  that  added  to  his  comfort  and  re- 
duced the  wear  and  tear  of  life  to  a  hurried  business- 
man ;    and   when   in   emergencies   Haldane  was  given 


352   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

tasks  that  required  brains,  he  proved  that  he  possessed  a 
fair  share  of  them. 

After  quite  a  lapse  of  time  Mr.  Ivison  again  happened 
to  meet  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  he  said  to  her: 

"  Haldane  thinks  you  did  him  a  great  kindness  in  sug- 
gesting our  present  arrangement  ;  but  I  am  inchned  to 
think  you  did  me  a  greater,  for  you  have  no  idea  how 
useful  the  young  fellow  is  making  himself  to  me." 

"Then  you  will  have  to  find  a  new  object  of  benev- 
olence," answered  the  lady.  "  or  you  will  have  all  your 
reward  in  this  world." 

"There  it  is  again,"  said  Mr.  Ivison,  with  his  hearty 
laugh,  "  you  and  Dr.  Barstow give  a  man  no  peace.  I'm 
going  to  take  breath  before  I  strike  in  again." 

In  his  new  employment,  Haldane,  from  the  first,  had 
found  considerable  leisure  on  his  hands,  and  after  a  little 
thought  decided  to  review  carefully  the  studies  over  which 
he  had  passed  so  superficially  in  his  Student  days. 
'  Mr.  Growther  persisted  in  occupying  the  kitchen,  leav- 
ing what  had  been  designed  as  the  parlor  or  sitting-room 
of  his  cottage  to  dust  and  damp.  With  his  permission 
the  young  man  fitted  this  up  as  a  study,  and  bought  a 
few  popular  works  on  science,  as  the  nucleus  of  a  library. 
After  supper  he  read  the  evening  paper  to  Mr.  Growther, 
who  soon  fell  into  a  doze,  and  then  Haldane  would  steal 
away  to  his  own  quarters  and  pursue  with  zest,  until  a 
late  hour,  some  study  that  had  once  seemed  to  him  utterly 
dry  and  unattractive. 

Thus  the  months  glided  rapidly  and  serenely  away, 
and  he  was  positively  happy  in  a  mode  of  life  that  he 
once  would  have  characterized  as  odiously  humdrum. 
The  terrible  world,  whose  favor  had  formerly  seemed  es- 
sential, and  its  scorn  unendurable,  was  almost  forgotten  ; 
and  as  he  continued  at  his  duties  so  steadily  and  unob- 
trusively the  hostile  world  began  to  unbend  gradually  its 
frowning  aspect  toward  him.     Those  whom  he  daily  met 


GROWTH.  353 

in  business  commenced  with  a  nod  of  recognition,  and 
eventually  ended  with  a  pleasant  word.  At  church  an 
increasing  number  began  to  speak  to  him,  not  merely  as 
a  Christian  duty,  but  because  the  young  man's  sincere 
and  earnest  manner  interested  them  and  inspired  respect. 

The  fact  that  he  recognized  that  he  was  under  a  cloud 
and  did  not  try  to  attract  attention,  worked  in  his  favor. 
He  never  asked  the  alms  of  a  kindly  word  or  glance,  by 
looking  appealingly  to  one  and  another.  It  became  his 
habit  to  walk  with  his  eyes  downcast,  not  speaking  to 
nor  looking  toward  any  one  unless  first  addressed.  At 
the  same  time  his  bearing  was  manly  and  erect,  and 
marked  by  a  certain  quiet  dignity  which  inevitably  char- 
acterizes all  who  are  honestly  trying  to  do  right. 

Because  he  asked  so  little  of  society  it  was  the  more 
disposed  to  give,  and  from  a  point  of  bare  toleration  it 
passed  on  to  a  wiUingness  to  patronize  with  a  faint  en- 
couraging smile.  And  yet  it  was  the  general  feeling  that 
one  whose  name  had  been  so  sadly  besmirched  must  be 
kept  at  more  than  arm's  length. 

"  He  may  get  to  heaven,"  said  an  old  lady  who  was 
remarking  upon  his  regular  attendance  at  church,  "  but 
he  can  never  hope  to  be  received  in  good  society  again." 

In  the  meantime  the  isolated  youth  was  finding  such 
an  increasing  charm  in  the  companionship  of  the  gifted 
minds  who  spoke  to  him  from  the  printed  pages  of  his 
little  library  that  he  felt  the  deprivation  less  and  less. 

But  an  hour  with  Mrs.  Arnot  was  one  of  his  chief 
pleasures,  to  which  he  looked  forward  with  glad  antici- 
pation. For  a  long  time  he  could  not  bring  himself  to 
go  to  her  house  or  to  take  the  risk  of  meeting  any  of  her 
other  guests,  and  in  order  to  overcome  his  reluctance 
she  occasionally  set  apart  an  evening  for  him  alone  and 
was  "engaged  "  to  all  others.  These  were  blessed  hours 
to  the  lonely  young  fellow,  and  their  memory  made  him 
stronger  and  more  hopeful  for  days  thereafter. 


354   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

In  his  Christian  experience  he  was  gaining  a  quiet  se- 
renity and  confidence.  He  had  fully  settled  it  in  his 
mind,  as  Mrs.  Arnot  had  suggested,  that  Jesus  Christ 
was  both  wiUing  and  able  to  save  him,  and  he  simply 
trusted  and  tried  to  follow. 

"  Come,"  said  that  lady  to  him  one  evening,  "  it's  time 
you  found  a  nook  in  the  vineyard  and  went  to  work." 

He  shook  his  head  emphatically  as  he  replied,  "  I  do 
not  feel  myself  either  competent  or  worthy.  Besides, 
who  would  listen  to  me  ?  " 

"  Many  might  with  profit.  You  can  carry  messages 
from  Mr.  Ivison,  can  you  not  take  a  message  from  your 
Divine  Master?  I  have  thought  it  all  over,  and  can  tell 
you  where  you  will  be  listened  to  at  least,  and  where  you 
may  do  much  good.  I  went,  last  Sunday,  to  the  same 
prison  in  which  I  visited  you,  and  I  read  to  the  inmates. 
It  would  be  a  moral  triumph  for  you,  Egbert,  to  go  back 
there  as  a  Christian  man  and  with  the  honest  purpose  of 
doing  good.  It  would  be  very  pleasant  for  me  to  think 
of  you  at  work  there  every  Sabbath.  Make  the  attempt, 
to  please  me,  if  for  no  better  reason." 

"That  settles  the  question,  Mrs.  Arnot,"  said  Hal- 
dane,  with  a  troubled  smile.  "  I  would  try  to  preach  in 
Choctaw,  if  you  requested  it,  and  I  fear  all  that  I  can 
say  'out  o'  my  own  head,'  as  Mr.  Growther  would  put 
it,  will  be  worse  than  Choctaw.  But  I  can  at  least  read 
to  the  prisoners  ;  that  is,"  he  added,  with  downcast  eyes 
and  a  flush  of  his  old  shame,  "  if  they  will  listen  to  me, 
which  I  much  doubt.  You,  with  your  large  generous 
sympathies,  can  never  understand  how  greatly  I  am  de- 
spised, even  by  my  own  class." 

"  Please  remember  that  I  am  of  your  class  now,  for 
you  are  of  the  household  of  faith.  I  know  what  you 
mean,  Egbert.  I  am  glad  that  you  are  so  diffident  and 
so  little  inclined  to  ask  on  the  ground  of  your  Christian 
profession  that  the  past  be  overlooked.     If  there  is  one 


GROWTH.  355 

thing  that  disgusts  me  more  than  another  it  is  the  dispo- 
sition to  make  one's  rehgion  a  stepping-stone  to  earthly 
objects  and  the  means  of  forcing  upon  others  a  famihar- 
ity  or  a  relationship  that  is  offensive  to  them.  I  cannot 
help  doubting  a  profession  of  faith  that  is  put  to  such  low 
uses.  I  know  that  you  have  special  reason  for  humility, 
but  you  must  not  let  it  develop  into  timidity.  All  I  ask 
is  that  you  read  to  such  poor  creatures  in  the  prison  as 
will  listen  to  you  a  chapter  in  the  Bible,  and  explain  it  as 
-well  as  you  can,  and  then  read  something  else  that  you 
think  will  interest  them." 

Haldane  made  the  attempt,  and  met,  at  first,  as  he 
feared,  with  but  indifferent  success.  Even  criminals 
looked  at  him  askance  as  he  came  in  the  guise  of  a  reli- 
gious teacher.  But  his  manner  was  so  unassuming,  and 
the  spirit  "  I  am  better  than  thou  "  was  so  conspicuously 
absent,  that  a  few  were  disarmed,  and  partly  out  of  curi- 
osity, and  partly  to  kill  the  time  that  passed  so  slowly, 
they  gathered  at  his  invitation.  He  sat  down  among 
them  as  if  one  of  them,  and  in  a  voice  that  trembled 
with  diffidence  read  a  chapter  from  the  gospels.  Since 
he  "  put  on  no  airs,"  as  they  said,  one  and  another  drew 
near  until  all  the  inmates  of  the  jail  were  grouped  around 
him.  Having  finished  the  chapter,  Haldane  closed  the 
Bible  and  said  : 

"  I  do  not  feel  competent  to  explain  this  chapter.  Per- 
haps many  of  you  understand  it  better  than  I  do.  I  did 
not  even  feel  that  I  was  worthy  to  come  here  and  read 
the  chapter  to  you,  but  the  Christian  lady  who  visited  you 
last  Sunday  asked  me  to  come,  and  I  would  do  any  thing 
for  her.  She  visited  me  when  I  was  a  prisoner  like  you, 
and  through  her  influence  I  am  trying  to  be  a  better  man. 
I  know,  my  friends,  from  sad  experience,  that  when  we 
get  down  under  men's  feet,  and  are  sent  to  places  like 
these,  we  lose  heart  and  hope  ;  we  feel  that  there  is  no 
chance  for  us  to  get  up  again,  we  are  tempted  to  be  de- 


356   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

spaiiing  and  reckless  ;  but  through  the  kindness  and 
mercy  of  that  good  lady,  Mrs,  Arnot,  I  learned  of  a  kind- 
ness and  mercy  greater  even  than  hers.  The  world 
may  hate  us,  scorn  us,  and  even  trample  us  down,  and 
if  we  will  be  honest  with  ourselves  we  must  admit  that 
we  have  given  it  some  reason  to  do  all  this—  at  least  I 
feel  that  I  have — but  the  world  can't  keep  us  down,  and 
what  is  far  worse  than  the  world,  the  evil  in  our  own 
1  earti  can't  keep  us  down,  if  we  ask  Jesus  Christ  to  help 
us  up.  I  am  finding  this  out  by  experience,  and  so  know 
the  truth  of  what  I  am  saying.  This  Bible  tells  us  about 
this  strong,  merciful  One,  this  Friend  of  publicans  and 
sinners,  and  if  you  would  like  me  to  come  here  Sunday 
afternoons  and  read  about  Him,  I  will  do  so  very  gladly 
but  I  don't  wish  to  force  myself  upon  you  if  I'm  not 
wanted." 

"Come,  my  hearty,  come  every  time,"  said  an  old 
sailor,  with  a  resounding  oath.  "  'Tain't  likely  I'll  ever 
ship  with  your  captain,  for  sech  as  I've  come  to  be 
couldn't  pass  muster.  Howsumever,  it's  kind  o'  com- 
fortin'  to  hear  one  talk  as  if  there  was  plenty  of  sea-room, 
even  when  a  chap  knows  he's  drivin'  straight  on  the 
rocks." 

"  Come,  oh,  come  again,"  entreated  the  tremulous  voice 
of  one  who  was  crouching  a  httle  back  of  his  chair. 

Haldane  turned,  and  with  a  start  recognized  the  fair 
young  girl,  whose  blue  eyes  and  Madonna-like  face  had, 
for  a  moment,  even  in  the  agony  of  his  own  shame,  se- 
cured his  attention  while  in  the  police  court,  more  than  a 
year  before.  She  was  terribly  changed,  and  yet  by  that 
strange  principle  by  which  we  keep  our  identity  through 
all  mutations,  Haldane  knew  that  she  was  the  same,  and 
felt  that  by  a  glance  he  could  almost  trace  back  her  life 
through  its  awful  descent  to  the  time  when  she  was  a 
beautiful  and  innocent  girl.  As  a  swift  dark  tide  might 
sweep  a  summer  pinnace  from  its  moorings,  and  dash  it 


GROWTH.  357 

on  the  rocks  until  it  became  a  crushed  and  shapeless 
thing,  so  passion  or  most  untoward  circumstances  had 
suddenly  drawn  this  poor  young  creature  among  coarse, 
destructive  vices  that  had  shattered  the  delicate,  womanly 
nature  in  one  short  year  into  utter  wreck. 

"  Come  again,"  she  whispered  in  response  to  Haldane's 
glance  ;  "  come  soon,  or  else  I  shall  be  in  my  grave,  and 
I've  got  the  awful  fear  that  it  is  the  mouth  of  the  bottom- 
less pit.     Otherwise  I'd  be  glad  to  be  in  it." 

"Poor  child!"  said  Haldane,  tears  coming  into  his 
eyes. 

"Ah!  "  she  gasped,  "will  God  pity  me  like  that?" 

"  Yes,  for  the  Bible  says,  •  The  Lord  is  very  pitiful  and 
of  tender  mercy.'  My  own  despairing  thoughts  have 
taught  me  to  look  for  all  of  God's  promises." 

"You  know  nothing  of  the  depths  into  which  I  have 
fallen,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone  ;  "  I  can  see  that  in  your 
face." 

Again  Haldane  ejaculated,  "Poor  child!"  with  a 
heartfelt  emphasis  that  did  more  good  than  the  longest 
homily.  Then  finding  the  Bible  story  which  commences, 
"  And,  behold,  a  woman  in  the  city,  which  was  a  sinner," 
he  turned  a  leaf  down  saying, 

"  I  am  neither  wise  enough  nor  good  enough  to  guide 
you,  but  I  know  that  Mrs.  Arnot  will  come  and  see  you. 
I  shall  leave  my  Bible  with  you,  and,  until  she  comes, 
read  where  I  have  marked." 

Mrs.  Arnot  did  come,  and  the  pure,  high-born  woman 
shut  the  door  of  the  narrow  cell,  and  taking  the  head  of 
her  fallen  sister  into  her  lap,  listened  with  responsive 
tears  to  the  piteous  story,  as  it  was  told  with  sighs,  sobs, 
and  strong  writhings  of  anguish. 

As  the  girl  became  calmer  and  her  mind  emerged  from 
the  chaos  of  her  tempestuous  and  despairing  sorrow,  Mrs. 
Arnot  led  her,  as  it  were,  to  the  very  feet  of  Jesus  of  Naz- 
areth, and  left  her  there  with  these  words, 


358   KNIGHT  OF  TUB  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

'•  He  came  to  seek  and  save  just  such  as  you  are — the 
lost.  He  is  reaching  down  His  rescuing  hand  of  love  to 
you,  and  when  you  grasp  it  in  simple  confiding  trust  you 
are  saved." 

Before  the  week  closed,  the  poor  creature  forever 
turned  her  face  away  from  the  world  in  which  she  had  so 
deeply  sinned  and  suffered  ;  but  before  she  departed  on 
the  long  journey,  He  who  alone  can  grant  to  the  humiin 
soul  full  absolution,  had  said  to  her,  "  Thy  sins  are  for- 
given ;  go  in  peace." 

As  Mrs.  Arnot  held  her  dying  head  she  whispered, 
"  Tell  him  that  it  was  his  tears  of  honest  sympathy  that 
first  gave  me  hope." 

That  message  had  a  vital  influence  over  Haldane's 
subsequent  life.  Indeed  these  v^'ords  of  the  poor  dying 
waif  were  potent  enough  to  shape  all  his  future  career. 
He  was  taught  by  them  the  magnetic  power  of  sympathy, 
and  that  he  who  in  the  depths  of  his  heart  feels  for  his 
fellow-creatures,  can  help  them.  He  had  once  hoped 
that  he  would  dazzle  men's  eyes  by  the  brilliancy  of  his 
career,  but  he  had  long  since  concluded  that  he  must 
plod  along  the  lowly  paths  of  life.  Until  his  visit  to  the 
prison  and  its  results  the  thought  had  scarcely  occurred 
to  him  that  he  could  help  others.  He  had  felt  that  he 
had  been  too  sorely  wounded  himself  ever  to  be  more 
than  an  invalid  in  the  world's  hospital  ;  but  he  now  be- 
gan to  learn  that  his  very  sin  and  suffering  enabled  him 
to  approach  nearer  to  those  who  were,  as  he  was  once, 
on  the  brink  of  despair  or  in  the  apathy  of  utter  discour- 
agement, and  to  aid  them  more  effectively  because  of  his 
kindred  experience. 

The  truth  that  he,  in  the  humblest  possible  way,  could 
engage  in  the  noble  work  for  which  he  revered  Mrs. 
Arnot,  came  like  a  burst  of  sunlight  into  his  shadowed 
life,  and  his  visits  to  the  prison  were  looked  forward  to 
with  increasing  zest. 


GROWTH,  35» 

From  reading  the  chapter  merely  he  eame  to  venture 
on  a  few  comments.  Then  questions  were  asked,  and 
he  tried  to  answer  some,  and  frankly  said  he  could  not 
answer  others.  But  these  questions  stimulated  his  mind 
and  led  to  thought  and  wider  reading.  To  his  own 
agreeable  surprise,  as  well  as  that  of  his  prison  class,  he 
occasionally  was  able  to  bring,  on  the  following  Sabbath, 
a  very  satisfactory  answer  to  some  of  the  questions  ;  and 
this  suggested  the  truth  that  all  questions  could  be  an- 
swered if  only  time  and  wisdom  enough  could  be  brought 
to  bear  upon  them. 

He  gradually  acquired  a  facility  in  expressing  his- 
thoughts,  and,  better  still,  he  had  thoughts  to  express.. 
Some  of  the  prisoners,  who  were  in  durance  but  for  a 
brief  time,  asked  him  to  take  a  class  in  the  Guy-Street 
Mission  Chapel. 

"They  will  scarcely  want  me  there  as  a  teacher," 
he  said  with  a  slight  flush. 

But  the  superintendent  and  pastor,  after  some  hesita- 
tion and  inquiry,  concluded  they  did  want  him  there, 
and  with  some  ex-prisoners  as  a  nucleus,  he  unob- 
trusively formed  a  class  near  the  door.  The  two  marked 
characteristics  of  his  Christian  efforts — downright  sin- 
cerity and  sympathy — were  like  strong,  far-reaching 
hands,  and  his  class  began  to  grow  until  it  swamped  the 
small  neighboring  classes  with  uncouth  and  unkempt- 
looking  creatures  that  were  drawn  by  the  voice  that  as- 
serted their  manhood  and  womanhood  in  spite  of  their 
degradation.  Finally,  before  another  year  ended,  a 
large  side-room  was  set  apart  for  Haldane  and  his  strange 
following,  and  he  made  every  one  that  entered  it,  no 
matter  how  debased,  believe  that  there  were  possibilities 
of  good  in  them  yet,  and  he  was  able  to  impart  this  en- 
couraging truth  because  he  so  thoroughly  believed  it 
himself. 

As  he  stood  before  that  throng  of  publicans  and  sin- 


360   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ners,  gathered  from  the  slums  of  the  city,  and,  with  his 
fine  face  hghted  up  with  thought  and  sympatliy,  spoke  to 
them  the  truth  in  such  a  way  that  they  understood  it  and 
felt  its  power,  one  could  scarcely  have  believed  that  but 
two  years  before  he  had  been  dragged  from  a  drunken 
brawl  to  the  common  jail.  The  explanation  is  simple — 
he  had  followed  closely  that  same  divine  Master  who  had 
taught  the  fishermen  of  Gahlee. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

LAURA   ROMEYN. 

Mrs.  Haldane  and  her  daughters  found  European 
life  so  decidedly  to  their  taste  that  it  was  doubtful 
whether  they  would  return  for  several  years.  The  son 
wrote  regularly  to  his  mother,  for  he  had  accepted  of  the 
truth  of  Mrs.  Arnot's  words  that  nothing  could  excuse 
him  from  the  sacred  duties  which  he  owed  to  her.  As 
his  fortunes  improved  and  time  elapsed  without  the  ad- 
vent of  more  disgraceful  stories,  she  also  began  to  re- 
spond as  frequently  and  sympathetically  as  could  be  ex- 
pected of  one  taking  her  views  of  life.  She  was  at  last: 
brought  to  acquiesce  in  his  plan  of  remaining  at  Hillaton,  if 
not  to  approve  of  it,  and  after  receiving  one  or  two  letters 
from  Mrs.  Arnot,  she  was  inclined  to  believe  in  the  sincerity 
of  his  Christian  profession.  She  began  to  share  in  the  old 
lady's  view  already  referred  to,  that  he  might  reach  heaven 
at  last,  but  could  never  be  received  in  good  society  again. 

"  Egbert  is  so  different  from  us,  my  dears,"  she  would 
sigh  to  her  daughters,  "that  I  suppose  we  should  not 
judge  him  by  our  standards.  I  suppose  he  is  doing  as 
well  as  he  ever  will — as  well  indeed  as  his  singularly  un- 
natural disposition  permits." 

It  did  not  occur  to  the  lady  that  she  was  a  trifle  unnat- 
ural and  unchristian  herself  in  permitting  jealousy  to  creep 
into  her  heart,  because  Mrs.  Arnot  had  wielded  a  power 
for  good  over  her  son  which  she  herself  had  failed  to  exert. 

She  instructed  her  lawyer,  however,  to  pay  to  him  an 
annuity  that  was  far  beyond  his  needs  in  his  present 
frugal  way  of  living. 

This  ample  income  enabled  him  at  once  to  carry  out  a^ 
cherished  purpose,  which  had  been  forming  in  his  mind  for 
several  months,  and  which  he  now  broached  to  Mrs.  Arnot. 
361 


362   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  For  the  last  half  year,"  he  said,  "  I  have  thought  a 
great  deal  over  the  possibilities  that  life  offers  to  one 
situated  as  1  am,  I  have  tried  to  discover  where  I  can 
make  my  life-work,  maimed  and  defective  as  it  ever 
must  be,  most  effective,  and  it  has  seemed  to  me  that  I 
could  accomplish  more  as  a  physician  than  in  any  other 
calling.  In  this  character  I  could  naturally  gain  access 
to  those  who  are  in  distress  of  body  and  mind,  but  who 
are  too  poor  to  pay  for  ordinary  attendance.  There  are 
hundreds  in  this  city,  especially  httle  children,  that, 
through  vice,  ignorance,  or  poverty  never  receive  proper 
attention  in  illness.  My  service  would  not  be  refused  by 
this  class,  especially  if  they  were  gratuitous." 

"  You  should  charge  for  your  visits,  as  a  rule,"  said 
•wise  Mrs.  Arnot.  "  Never  give  charity  unless  it  is  ab- 
tsolutely  necessary." 

"  Well,  I  could  charge  so  moderately  that  my  attend- 
ance would  not  be  a  burden.  I  am  very  grateful  to  Mr. 
Ivison  for  the  position  he  gave  me,  but  I  would  like  to  do 
something  more  and  better  in  life  than  I  can  accomplish 
as  his  clerk.  A  physician  among  the  poor  has  so  many 
chances  to  speak  the  truth  to  those  who  might  otherwise 
never  hear  it.  Now  this  income  from  my  father's  estate 
Avould  enable  me  to  set  about  the  necessary  studies  at 
once,  and  the  only  question  in  my  mind  is,  will  they  re- 
ceive me  at  the  university  ?  " 

"Egbert,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  one  of  those  sudden 
illuminations  of  her  face  which  he  so  loved  to  see,  "  do 
you  remember  what  I  said  long  ago,  when  you  were  a 
<Jisheartened  prisoner,  about  my  ideal  of  knighthood  ?  If 
you  keep  on  you  will  fulfill  it." 

"  I  remember  it  well,"  he  replied,  "  but  you  are  mis- 
taken. My  best  hope  is  to  find,  as  you  said  upon  an- 
other occasion,  my  own  little  nook  in  the  vineyard,  and 
quietly  do  my  work  there." 

After  considerable  hesitation  the  faculty  of  the  univer- 


LA  UFA   B03IEYN.  363 

sity  received  Haldane  as  a  student,  and  Mr.  Ivisori 
parted  with  him  very  reluctantly.  His  studies  for  the 
past  two  years,  and  several  weeks  of  careful  review,  en- 
abled him  to  pass  the  examinations  required  in  order  to 
enter  the  Junior  year  of  the  college  course. 

As  his  name  appeared  among  those  who  might  gradu- 
ate in  two  years,  the  world  still  further  relaxed  its  rigid 
and  forbidding  aspect,  and  not  a  few  took  pains  to  mani- 
fest to  him  their  respect  for  his  resolute  upward  course. 

But  he  maintained  his  old,  distant,  unobtrusive  man- 
ner, and  no  one  was  obliged  to  recognize,  much  less  to* 
show,  any  special  kindness  to  him,  unless  they  chose  ta 
do  so.  He  evidently  shrank  with  a  morbid  sensitiveness 
from  any  social  contact  with  those  who,  in  remembrance 
of  his  past  history,  might  shrink  from  him.  But  he  had 
not  been  at  the  university  very  long  before  Mrs.  Arnot 
overcame  this  diffidence  so  far  as  to  induce  him  to  meet 
with  certain  manly  fellows  of  his  class  at  her  house. 

In  all  the  frank  and  friendly  interchange  of  thought 
between  Mrs.  Arnot  and  the  young  man  there  was  one 
to  whom,  by  tacit  consent,  they  did  not  refer,  except  in. 
the  most  casual  manner,  and  that  was  Laura  Romeyn. 
Haldane  had  not  seen  her  since  the  time  she  stumbled 
upon  him  in  his  character  of  wood-sawyer.  He  kept 
her  image  in  a  distant  and  doubly-locked  chamber  of  his 
heart,  and  seldom  permitted  his  thoughts  to  go  thither. 
Thus  the  image  had  faded  into  a  faint  yet  lovely  outline 
which  he  had  learned  to  look  upon  with  a  regret  that 
Avas  now  scarcely  deep  enough  to  be  regarded  as  pain.. 
She  had  made  one  or  two  brief  visits  to  her  aunt,  but  he 
had  taken  care  never  to  meet  her.  He  had  learned  in- 
cidentally, however,  that  she  had  lost  her  father,  andl 
that  her  mother  was  far  from  well. 

When  calling  upon  Mrs.  Arnot  one  blustering  IMarch. 
evening,  toward  the  close  of  his  Junior  year,  that  lady- 
explained  her  anxious  clouded  face  by  saying  that  her 


364   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

sister,  Mrs.  Romeyn,  was  very  ill,  and  after  a  moment 
added,  half  in  soliloquy,  "What  would  she  do  without 
Laura?"  ' 

From  this  he  gathered  that  the  young  girl  was  a  loving 
daughter  and  a  faithful  nurse,  and  the  image  of  a  pale, 
yet  lovely  watcher  rose  before  him  with  dangerous  fre- 
quency and  distinctness. 

A  day  or  two  after  he  received  a  note  from  Mrs.  Ar- 
not,  informing  him  that  she  was  about  to  leave  home  for 
a  visit  to  her  invalid  sister,  and  might  be  absent  several 
weeks.  Her  surmise  proved  correct,  and  when  she  re- 
turned Laura  came  with  her,  and  the  deep  mourning  of 
the  orphan's  dress  but  faintly  reflected  the  darker  sorrow 
that  shrouded  her  heart.  When,  a  few  sabbaths  after 
her  arrival,  her  vailed  figure  passed  up  the  aisle  of  the 
church,  he  bowed  his  head  in  as  sincere  sympathy  as  one 
person  can  give  for  the  grief  of  another. 

For  a  long  time  he  did  not  venture  to  call  on  Mrs.  Ar- 
not,  and  then  came  only  at  her  request.  To  his  great 
relief,  he  did  not  see  Laura,  for  he  felt  that,  conscious  of 
her  great  loss  and  the  memories  of  the  past,  he  should 
be  speechless  in  her  presence.     To  Mrs.  Arnot  he  said  : 

"Your  sorrow  has  seemed  to  me  such  a  sacred  thing 
that  I  felt  that  any  reference  to  it  on  my  part  would  be 
like  a  profane  touch  ;  but  I  was  sure  you  would  not  mis- 
interpret my  silence  or  my  absence,  and  would  know 
that  you  were  never  long  absent  from  my  thoughts." 

He  was  rewarded  by  the  characteristic  lighting  up  of 
her  face  as  she  said  : 

"  Hillaton  would  scarcely  give  you  credit  for  such  del- 
icacy of  feeling,  Egbert,  but  you  are  fulfilling  my  faith 
in  you.  Neither  have  I  forgotten  you  and  your  knightly 
conflict  because  I  have  not  seen  or  written  to  you.  You 
know  well  that  my  heart  and  hands  have  been  full.  And 
now  a  very  much  longer  time  must  elapse  before  we  can 
meet  again.     In  her  devotion  to  her  mother  my  niece  has 


LAURA   EOJIEYX.  365 

overtaxed  her  strength,  and  her  physical  and  mental  de- 
pression is  so  great  that  our  physician  strongly  recom- 
mends a  year  abroad.  You  can  see  how  intensely  occu- 
pied I  have  been  in  preparations  for  our  hurried  depar- 
ture. We  sail  this  week.  I  shall  see  your  mother,  no 
doubt,  and  I  am  glad  I  can  tell  her  that  which  I  should 
be  proud  to  hear  of  a  son  of  mine." 

The  year  that  followed  was  a  long  one  to  Haldane. 
He  managed  to  keep  the  even  tenor  of  his  way,  but  it 
was  often  as  the  soldier  makes  his  weary  march  in  the 
enemy's  country,  fighting  for  and  holding,  step  by  step, 
with  difficulty.  His  intense  apphcation  in  his  first  year 
of  study  and  the  excitements  of  the  previous  years  at  last 
told  upon  him,  and  he  often  experienced  days  of  extreme 
lassitude  and  weariness.  At  one  time  he  was  quite  ill> 
and  then  he  realized  how  lonely  and  isolated  he  was. 
He  still  kept  his  quarters  at  the  hermitage,  but  Mr. 
Grovvther,  with  the  kindest  intentions,  was  too  old  and 
decrej^it  to  prove  much  of  a  nurse. 

In  his  hours  of  enforced  idleness  his  imagination  began 
to  retouch  the  shadowy  image  of  Laura  Romeyn  with 
an  ideal  beauty.  In  his  pain  and  weakness  her  charac- 
ter of  watcher — in  which  her  self-sacrificing  devotion  had 
been  so  great  as  to  impair  her  health — was  peculiarly  at- 
tractive. She  became  to  him  a  pale  and  lovely  saint, 
too  remote  and  sacred  for  his  human  love,  and  yet  suffi- 
ciently human  to  continually  haunt  his  mind  with  a  vague 
and  regretful  pain  that  he  could  never  reach  her  side. 
He  now  learned  from  its  loss  how  valuable  Mrs.  Arnot's 
society  had  been  to  him.  Her  letters,  which  were  full 
and  moderately  frequent,  could  not  take  the  place  of  her 
quiet  yet  inspiriting  voice. 

He  was  lonely,  and  he  recognized  the  fact.  While 
there  were  hundreds  now  in  Hillaton  who  wished  him 
well,  and  respected  him  for  his  brave  struggle,  he  was 
too  shadowed  by  disgraceful  memories  to  be  received  so- 


.366  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

-cially  into  the  homes  that  he  would  care  to  visit.  Some 
•of  the  church  people  invited  him  out  of  a  sense  of  duty, 
but  he  recognized  their  motive,  and  shrank  from  such 
•constrained  courtesy  with  increasing  sensitiveness. 

But,  though  he  showed  human  weakness  and  gave  way 
to  long  moods  of  despondency,  at  times  inclining  to  mur- 
mur bitterly  at  his  lot,  he  suffered  no  serious  reverses. 
He  patiently,  even  in  the  face  of  positive  disinclination, 
maintained  his  duties.  He  remembered  how  often  the 
Divine  Man,  in  His  shadowed  life,  went  apart  for  prayer, 
and  honestly  tried  to  imitate  this  example,  so  specially 
-suited  to  one  as  maimed  and  imperfect  as  himself. 

He  found  that  his  prayers  were  answered,  that  the 
-Strong  Friend  to  whom  he  had  allied  his  weakness  did 
not  fail  him.  He  was  sustained  through  the  dark  days, 
■and  his  faith  eventually  brought  him  peace  and  serenity. 
He  gained  in  patience  and  strength,  and  with  better 
iiealth  came  renewed  hopefulness. 

Although  not  a  brilliant  student,  he  was  able  to  com- 
plete his  university  course  and  graduate  with  credit.  He 
then  took  the  first  vacation  that  he  had  enjoyed  for  years, 
and,  equipping  himself  with  fishing  rod  and  a  few  favor- 
ite authors,  he  buried  himself  in  the  mountains  of  Maine. 

His  prison  and  mission  classes  missed  him  sadly.  Mr. 
Growther  found  that  he  could  no  longer  live  a  hermit's 
iife,  and  began  in  good  earnest  to  look  for  the  "little, 
peaked-faced  chap"  that  had  grown  to  be  more  and 
more  of  a  reality  to  him  ;  but  the  rest  of  Hillaton  almost 
forgot  that  Haldane  had  ever  existed. 

In  the  autumn  he  returned,  brown  and  vigorous,  and 
entered  upon  his  studies  at  the  medical  school  connected 
•with  the  university  with  decided  '  zest.  To  his  joy  he 
found  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Arnot,  informing  him  that  the 
health  of  her  niece  was  fully  restored,  and  that  they  were 
about  to  return.  And  yet  it  was  with  misgivings  that  he 
remembered  that  Ivaura  would  henceforth  be  an  inmate 


LAUEA   R031EYN.  367 

of  Mrs.  Arnot's  home.  As  a  memory,  however  beauti- 
ful, she  was  too  shadowy  to  disturb  his  peace.  Would 
this  be  true  if  she  had  fulfilled  all  the  rich  promises  of 
her  girlhood,  and  he  saw  her  often  ? 

With  a  foreboding  of  future  trouble  he  both  dreaded 
and  longed  to  see  once  more  the  maiden  who  had  once 
so  deeply  stirred  his  heart,  and  who  in  the  depths  of  his 
disgrace  had  not  scorned  him  when  accidentally  meeting 
him  in  the  guise  and  at  the  tasks  of  a  common  laborer. 

It  was  with  a  quickened  pulse  that  he  read  in  the  Spy, 
one  Monday  evening,  that  Mrs.  Arnot  and  niece  had  ar- 
rived in  town.  It  was  with  a  quicker  pulse  that  he  re- 
ceived a  note  from  her  a  few  days  later  asking  him  to  call 
that  evening,  and  adding  that  two  or  three  other  young 
men  whom  he  knew  to  be  her  especial  favorites  would 
be  present. 

Because  our  story  has  confined  itself  chiefly  to  the  re- 
lations existing  between  Haldane  and  Mrs.  Arnot,  it  must 
not  be  forgotten  that  her  active  sympathies  were  enlisted 
in  behalf  of  many  others,  some  of  whom  were  almost 
equally  attached  to  her  and  she  to  them. 

After  a  little  thought  Haldane  concluded  that  he  would 
much  prefer  that  his  first  interview  with  Laura  should  be 
in  the  presence  of  others,  for  he  could  then  keep  in  the 
background  without  exciting  remark. 

He  sincerely  hoped  that  when  he  saw  her  he  might  find 
that  her  old  power  over  him  was  a  broken  spell,  and  that 
the  lovely  face  which  had  haunted  him  all  these  years, 
growing  more  beautiful  with  time,  was  but  the  creation 
of  his  own  fancy.  He  was  sure  she  would  still  be  pretty, 
but  if  that  were  all  he  could  go  on  his  way  without  a  re- 
gretful thought.  But  if  the  shy  maiden,  whose  half-en- 
treating, compassionate  tones  had  interrupted  the  harsh 
rasping  of  his  saw  years  ago,  were  the  type  of  the  woman 
whom  he  should  meet  that  evening,  might  not  the  bitter- 
est punishment  of  his  folly  be  still  before  him  ? 


368   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

He  waited  till  sure  that  the  other  guests  had  arrived, 
and  then  entered  to  meet,  as  he  believed,  either  a  hope- 
less thraldom  or  complete  disenchantment. 

As  he  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  parlor  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  Mrs.  Arnot  again,  and  of  receiving  her  cordial 
greeting,  obliterated  all  other  thoughts  from  his  mind. 

He  had,  however,  but  a  moment's  respite,  for  the  lady 
said  : 

"  Laura,  my  friend  Mr,  Haldane." 

He  turned  and  saw,  by  actual  vision,  the  face  that  in 
fancy  he  had  so  often  looked  upon.  It  was  not  the  face 
that  he  expected  to  see  at  all.  The  shy,  blue-eyed 
maiden,  who  might  have  reminded  one  of  a  violet  half 
hidden  among  the  grass,  had  indeed  vanished,  but  an 
ordinary  pretty  woman  had  not  taken  her  place. 

He  felt  this  before  he  had  time  to  consciously  observe 
it,  and  bowed  rather  low  to  hide  his  burning  face  ;  but 
she  frankly  held  out  her  hand  and  said,  though  with 
somewhat  heightened  color  also  : 

"  Mr.  Haldane,  I  am  glad  to  meet  you  again." 

Then,  either  to  give  him  time  to  recover  himself,  or 
else,  since  the  interruption  was  over,  she  was  glad  to  re- 
sume the  conversation  that  had  been  suspended,  she 
turned  to  her  former  companions.  Mrs.  Arnot  also  left 
him  to  himself  a  few  moments,  and  by  a  determined  ef- 
fort he  sought  to  calm  the  tumultuous  riot  of  his  blood. 
He  was  not  phlegmatic  on  any  occasion  ;  but  even  Mrs. 
Arnot  could  not  understand  why  he  should  be  so  deeply 
moved  by  this  meeting.  She  ascribed  it  to  the  painful 
and  humihating  memories  of  the  past,  and  then  dismissed 
his  manner  from  her  mind.  He  speedily  gained  self-con- 
trol, and,  as  is  usual  with  strong  natures,  became  unusu- 
ally quiet  and  undemonstrative.  Only  in  the  depths  of 
his  dark  eyes  could  one  have  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
troubled  spirit  within,  for  it  was  troubled  with  a  growing 
consciousness  of  an  infinite  loss. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

MISJUDGED. 

The  young  men  who  were  Mrs.  Arnot's  guests  were 
naturally  attracted  to  Laura's  side,  and  she  speedily 
proved  that  she  possessed  the  rare  power  of  entertaining 
several  gentlemen  at  the  same  time,  and  with  such  grace 
and  tact  as  to  make  each  one  feel  that  his  presence  was 
both  welcome  and  needed  in  the  circle. 

Mrs.  Arnot  devoted  herself  to  Haldane,  and  showed 
how  genuine  was  her  interest  in  him  by  taking  up  his  life 
where  his  last  letter  left  it,  and  asking  about  all  that  had 
since  occurred.  Indeed,  with  almost  a  mother's  sympathy, 
she  led  him  to  speak  of  the  experiences  of  the  entire  year. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  scarcely  more 
than  held  my  ground." 

"  To  hold  one's  ground,  at  times  requires  more  courage, 
more  heroic  patience  and  fortitude,  than  any  other  effort 
we  can  make.  I  have  been  told  that  soldiers  can  charge 
against  any  odds  better  than  they  can  simply  and  coolly 
stand  their  ground.  But  I  can  see  that  you  have  been 
making  progress.  You  have  graduated  with  honor.  You 
are  surely  winning  esteem  and  confidence.  You  have 
kept  your  faith  in  God,  and  maintained  your  peculiar  use- 
fulness to  a  class  that  so  few  can  reach  :  perhaps  you  are 
doing  more  good  than  any  of  us,  by  proving  that  it  is  a 
fact  and  not  a  theory  that  the  fallen  can  rise." 

"  You  are  in  the  world,  but  not  of  it,"  he  said  ;  and 
then,  as  if  anxious  to  change  the  subject,  asked,  "  Did 
you  see  my  mother  ?  " 

Although  Mrs.  Arnot  did  not  intend  it,  there  was  a 
slight  constraint  in  her  voice  and  manner  as  she  replied  : 
*•  Yes,  I  took  especial  pains  to  see  her  before  I  returned, 
369 


370   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  went  out  of  my  way  to  do  so.  I  wished  to  assure 
her  how  well  you  were  doing,  and  how  certain  you  were 
to  retrieve  the  past,  all  of  which,  of  course,  she  was  very 
glad  to  hear." 

"  Did  she  send  me  no  message?"  he  asked,  instinct- 
ively feeling  that  something  was  wrong. 

"  She  said  that  she  wrote  to  you  regularly,  and  so,  of 
course,  felt  that  there  was  no  need  of  sending  any  verbal 
messages." 

"  Was  she  not  cordial  to  you  ?  "  asked  the  young  man, 
with  a  dark  frown. 

"  She  was  very  polite,  Egbert.  I  think  she  misunder- 
stands me  a  little." 

His  face  flushed  with  indignation,  and  after  a  moment's 
thought  he  said  bitterly,  and  with  something  like  con- 
tempt, "  Poor  mother  !  she  is  to  be  pitied." 

Mrs.  Arnot's  face  became  very  grave,  and  almost  se- 
vere, and  she  replied,  with  an  emphasis  which  he  never 
forgot, 

"  She  is  to  be  loved  ;  she  is  to  be  cherished  with  the 
most  delicate  consideration  and  forbearance,  and  honored 
— yes,  honored — because  she  is  your  mother.  You,  as  her 
son,  should  never  say,  nor  permit  any  one  to  say  a  word 
against  her.  Nothing  can  absolve  you  from  this  sacred 
duty.     Remember  this  as  you  hope  to  be  a  true  man," 

This  was  Mrs.  Arnot's  return  for  the  small  jealousy  of 
her  girlhood's  friend. 

He  bowed  his  head,  and  after  a  moment  replied  : 
"  Mrs.  Arnot,  I  feel,  I  know,  you  are  right.     I  thank  you." 

"Now  you  are  my  knight  again,"  she  said,  her  face 
suddenly  lighting  up.  "  But  come  ;  let  us  join  the  others, 
for  they  seem  to  have  hit  upon  a  very  m.irthful  and  ani~ 
mated  discussion." 

Laura's  eye  and  sympathies  took  them  in  at  once  as 
they  approached,  and  enveloped  them  in  the  genial  and 
magnetic  influences  which  she  seemed  to  have  the  power 


MISJUDGED.  371 

of  exerting.  Although  naturally  and  deeply  interested 
in  his  interview  with  Mrs.  Arnot,  Haldane's  eyes  and 
thoughts  had  been  drawn  frequently  and  irresistibly  to 
the  object  of  his  old-time  passion.  She  was,  indeed,  very- 
different  from  what  he  had  expected.  The  diffident 
maiden,  so  slight  in  form  and  shy  in  manner,  had  not  de- 
veloped into  a  drooping  lily  of  a  woman,  suggesting  that 
she  must  always  have  a  manly  support  of  some  kind  near 
at  hand.  Still  less  had  she  become  a  typical  belle,  and 
the  aggressive  society  girl  who  captures  and  amuses  her- 
self with  her  male  admirers  with  the  grace  and  sangfroid 
of  a  sportive  kitten  that  carefully  keeps  a  hapless  mouse 
within  reach  of  her  velvet  paw.  The  pale  and  saint-like 
image  which  he  had  so  long  enshrined  within  his  heart, 
and  which  had  been  created  by  her  devotion  to  her 
mother,  also  faded  utterly  away  in  the  presence  of  the 
reality  before  him.  She  was  a  veritable  flesh-and-blood 
woman,  with  the  hue  of  health  upon  her  cheek,  and  the 
charm  of  artistic  beauty  in  her  rounded  form  and  graceful 
manner.  She  was  a  revelation  to  him,  transcending  not 
only  all  that  he  had  seen,  but  all  that  he  had  imagined. 

Thus  far  he  had  not  attained  a  moral  and  intellectual 
culture  which  enabled  him  even  to  idealize  so  beautiful 
and  perfect  a  creature.  She  was  not  a  saint  in  the  mys- 
tical or  imaginative  sense  of  the  word,  but,  as  a  queen 
reigning  by  the  divine  right  of  her  surpassing  loveliness 
and  grace  in  even  Hillaton's  exclusive  society,  she  was 
practically  as  far  removed  from  him  as  if  she  were  an  ideal 
saint  existing  only  in  a  painter's  haunted  imagination. 

Nature  had  dowered  Laura  Romeyn  very  richly  in  the 
graces  of  both  person  and  mind  ;  but  many  others  are 
equally  favored.  Her  indescribable  charm  arose  from  the 
fact  that  she  was  very  receptive  in  her  disposition.  She 
had  been  wax  to  receive,  but  marble  to  retain.  There- 
fore, since  she  had  always  lived  and  breathed  in  an  at- 
mosphere of  culture,  refinement,  and  Christian  faith,  her 


372   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  K.ENTURY. 

character  had  the  exquisite  beauty  and  fragrance  which 
belongs  to  a  rare  flower  to  which  all  the  conditions  of 
perfect  development  have  been  supplied.  Although  the 
light  of  her  eye  was  serene,  and  her  laugh  as  clear  and 
natural  as  the  fall  of  water,  there  was  a  nameless  some- 
thing which  indicated  that  her  happy,  healthful  nature 
rested  against  a  dark  back-ground  of  sorrow  and  trial,, 
and  was  made  the  richer  and  more  perfect  thereby. 

Her  self-forgetfulness  was  contagious.  The  beautiful 
girl  did  not  look  from  one  to  another  of  the  admiring  cir- 
cle for  the  sake  of  picking  up  a  small  revenue  of  flattery. 
From  a  native  generosity  she  wished  to  give  pleasure  to- 
her  guests  ;  from  a  holy  principle  instilled  into  her  nature 
so  long  ago  that  she  was  no  longer  conscious  of  it,  she 
wished  to  do  them  good  by  suggesting  only  such  thoughts 
as  men  associate  with  pure,  good  women  ;  and  from  ar> 
earnest,  yet  sprightly  mind,  she  took  a  genuine  interest 
herself  in  the  subjects  on  which  they  were  conversing. 

By  her  tact,  and  with  Mrs.  Arnot's  efficient  aid,  she 
drew  all  into  the  current  of  their  talk.  The  three  other 
young  men  who  were  Mrs.  Arnot's  guests  that  evening 
were  manly  fellows,  and  had  come  to  treat  Haldane  with 
cordial  respect.  Thus  for  a  time  he  was  made  to  forget 
all  that  had  occurred  to  cloud  his  hfe.  He  found  that 
the  presence  of  Laura  kindled  his  intellect  with  a  fire  of 
which  he  had  never  been  conscious  before.  His  eyes 
flashed  sympathy  with  every  word  she  said,  and  before 
he  was  aware  he,  too,  was  speaking  his  mind  with  free- 
dom, for  he  saw  no  chilling  repugnance  toward  him  ir> 
the  kindly  light  of  her  deep  blue  eyes.  She  led  him  to 
forget  himself  and  his  past  so  completely  that  he,  in  the  ex- 
citement of  argument,  inadvertently  pronounced  his  own 
doom.     In  answer  to  the  remark  of  another,  he  said  : — 

"  Society  is  right  in  being  conservative  and  exclusive^ 
and  its  favor  should  be  the  highest  earthly  reward  of  a 
stainless   life.     The   coarse   and   the  vulgar  should   be 


MISJUDGED.  373 

taught  that  they  cannot  purchase  it  nor  elbow  their  way 
into  it,  and  those  who  have  it  should  be  made  to  feel  that 
losing  it  is  hke  losing  life,  for  it  can  never  be  regained. 
Thus  society  not  only  protects  itself,  but  prevents  weak 
souls  from  dallying  with  temptation." 

So  well-bred  was  Laura  that,  while  her  color  deep- 
ened at  his  words,  she  betrayed  no  other  consciousness 
that  they  surprised  her.  But  he  suddenly  remembered 
all,  and  the  blood  rushed  tumultuously  to  his  face,  then 
left  it  very  pale. 

"What  I  have  said  is  true,  nevertheless,"  he  added 
quietly  and  decisively,  as  if  in  answer  to  these  thoughts  ; 
"  and  losing  one's  place  in  society  may  be  worse  than 
losing  life." 

He  felt  that  this  was  true,  as  he  looked  at  the  beauti- 
ful girl  before  him,  so  kind  and  gentle,  and  yet  so  un- 
approachable by  him  ;  and,  what  is  more,  he  saw  in  her 
face  pitying  acquiescence  to  his  words.  As  her  aunt's 
protege,  as  a  young  man  trying  to  reform,  he  felt  that  he 
would  have  her  good  wishes  and  courteous  treatment, 
but  never  any  thing  more. 

"Egbert,  I  take  issue  with  you,"  began  Mrs.  Arnot 
warmly  ;  but  further  remark  was  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  a  gentleman,  who  was  announced  as 

"  Mr.  Beaumont." 

There  was  a  nice  distinction  between  the  greeting 
given  by  Mrs.  Arnot  to  this  gentleman  and  that  which 
she  had  bestowed  upon  Haldane  and  her  other  guests. 
His  reception  was  simply  the  perfection  of  quiet  courtesy, 
and  no  one  could  have  been  sure  that  the  lady  was  glad 
to  see  him.  She  merely  welcomed  him  as  a  social  equal 
to  her  parlors,  and  then  turned  again  to  her  friends. 

But  Laura  had  a  kindlier  greeting  for  the  newcomer. 
While  her  manner  was  equally  undemonstrative,  her  eyes 
lighted  up  with  pleasure  and  the  color  deepened  m  her 
cheeks.     It  was  evident  that  they  were  old  acquaintances, 


374   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  that  he  had  found  previous  occasions  for  making  him- 
self very  agreeable. 

Mr.  Beaumont  did  not  care  to  form  one  of  a  circle. 
He  was  in  the  world's  estimation,  possibly  in  his  own,  a 
complete  circle  in  himself,  rounded  out  and  perfect  on 
every  side.  He  was  the  only  son  in  one  of  the  oldest 
and  most  aristocratic  families  in  the  city  ;  he  was  the  heir 
of  very  large  wealth  ;  his  careful  education  had  been  sup- 
plemented by  years  of  foreign  travel  ;  he  was  acknowl- 
edged to  be  the  best  connoisseur  of  art  in  Hillaton  ;  and 
to  his  irreproachable  manners  was  added  an  irreproach- 
able character.  "  He  is  a  perfect  gentleman,"  was  the 
verdict  of  the  best  society  wherever  he  appeared. 

Something  to  this  effect  Haldane  learned  from  one  of 
the  young  men  with  whom  he  had  been  spending  the 
evening,  as  they  bent  their  steps  homeward — for  soon 
after  Mr.  Beaumont's  arrival  all  took  their  departure. 

That  gentleman  seemed  to  bring  in  with  him  a  di^er- 
ent  atmosphere  from  that  which  had  prevailed  hitherto. 
Although  his  bow  was  distant  to  Haldane  when  intro- 
duced, his  manner  had  been  the  perfection  of  polite- 
ness to  the  others.  For  some  reason,  however, 
there  had  been  a  sudden  restraint  and  chill.  Possibly 
they  had  but  unconsciously  obeyed  the  strong  will  of 
Mr.  Beaumont,  who  wished  their  departure.  He  was 
almost  as  resolute  in  having  his  own  way  as  Mr.  Arnot 
himself.  Not  that  he  was  ever  rude  to  any  one  in  any 
circumstances,  but  he  could  politely  freeze  objectionable 
persons  out  of  a  room  as  effectually  as  if  he  took  them  by 
the  shoulders  and  walked  them  out.  There  was  so  much 
in  his  surroundings  and  antecedents  to  sustain  his  quiet 
assumption,  that  the  world  was  learning  to  say,  "  By  your 
leave,"  on  all  occasions. 

Haldane  was  not  long  in  reaching  a  conclusion  as  he 
sat  over  a  dying  fire  in  his  humble  quarters  at  the  her- 
mitage.    If  he  saw  much  of  Laura  Romeyn  he  would 


MISJUDGED.  375 

love  her  of  necessity  by  every  law  of  his  being.  Assur- 
ing himself  of  the  hopelessness  of  his  affection  would  make 
no  difference  to  one  of  his  temperament.  He  was  not 
one  who  could  coolly  say  to  his  ardent  and  impetuous 
nature,  "Thus  far,  and  no  farther."  There  was  some- 
thing in  her  every  tone,  word,  and  movement  which 
touched  chords  within  his  heart  that  vibrated  pleasurably 
or  painfully. 

This  power  cannot  be  explained.  It  was  not  passion. 
Were  Laura  far  more  beautiful,  something  in  her  manner 
or  character  might  speedily  have  broken  the  spell  by 
which  she  unconsciously  held  her  captive.  His  emotion 
in  no  respect  resembled  the  strong  yet  restful  affection 
that  he  entertained  for  Mrs.  Arnot.  Was  it  love  ?  Why- 
should  he  love  one  who  would  not  love  in  return,  and 
who,  both  in  the  world's  and  his  own  estimation,  was 
infinitely  beyond  his  reach?  However  much  his  reason 
might  condemn  his  feelings,  however  much  he  might  re- 
gret the  fact,  his  heart  trembled  at  her  presence,  and,  by 
some  instinct  of  its  own,  acknowledged  its  mistress.  He 
was  compelled  to  admit  to  himself  that  he  loved  her 
already,  and  that  his  boyhood's  passion  had  only  changed 
as  he  had  changed,  and  had  become  the  strong  and 
abiding  sentiment  of  the  man.  She  only  could  have 
broken  the  power  by  becoming  commonplace,  by  losing 
the  peculiar  charm  which  she  had  for  him  from  the  first. 
But  now  he  could  not  choose  ;  he  had  met  his  fate. 

One  thing,  however,  he  could  do,  and  that  he  resolved 
upon  before  he  closed  his  eyes  in  sleep  in  the  faint  dawn- 
ing of  the  following  day.  He  would  not  flutter  as  a  poor 
moth  where  he  could  not  be  received  as  an  accepted  lover. 

This  resolution  he  kept.  He  did  not  cease  calhng  upon 
Mrs.  Arnot,  nor  did  the  quiet  warmth  of  his  manner 
toward  her  change  ;  but  his  visits  became  less  frequent, 
he  pleading  the  engrossing  character  of  his  studies,  and 
the  increasing  preparation  required  to  maintain  his  hold 


376   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

on  his  mission-class  ;  but  the  lady's  delicate  intuition  was 
not  long  in  divining  the  true  cause.  One  of  his  uncon- 
scious glances  at  Laura  revealed  his  heart  to  her  woman's 
eye  as  plainly  as  could  any  spoken  words.  But  by  no 
word  or  hint  did  Mrs.  Arnot  reveal  to  him  her  knowl- 
edge. Her  tones  might  have  been  gentler  and  her  eyes 
kinder  ;  that  was  all.  In  her  heart,  however,  she  almost 
revered  the  man  who  had  the  strength  and  patience  to 
take  up  this  heavy  and  hopeless  burden,  and  go  on  in 
the  path  of  duty  without  a  word.  How  different  was  his 
present  course  from  his  former  passionate  clamor  for 
what  was  then  equally  beyond  his  reach  !  She  was 
almost  provoked  at  her  niece  that  she  did  not  appreciate 
Haldane  more.  But  would  she  wish  her  peerless  ward 
to  marry  this  darkly  shadowed  man,  to  whom  no  parlor 
in  Hillaton  was  open  save  her  own?  Even  Mrs.  Arnot 
would  shrink  from  this  question. 

Laura,  too,  had  perceived  that  which  Haldane  meant 
to  hide  from  all  the  world.  When  has  a  beautiful  woman 
failed  to  recognize  her  w^orshipers  ?  But  there  was  noth- 
ing in  Laura's  nature  which  permitted  her  to  exult  over 
such  a  discovery.  She  could  not  resent  as  presumption 
a  love  that  was  so  unobtrusive,  for  it  became  more  and 
more  evident  as  time  passed  that  the  man  who  was  mas- 
tered by  it  would  never  voluntarily  give  to  her  the  slight- 
est hint  of  its  existence.  She  was  pleased  that  he  was  so 
sensible  as  to  recognize  the  impassable  gulf  between 
them,  and  that  he  did  not  go  moaning  along  the  brink, 
thus  making  a  spectacle  of  himself,  and  becoming  an 
annoyance  to  her.  Indeed,  she  sincerely  respected  him 
for  his  reticence  and  self-control,  but  she  also  misjudged 
him  ;  for  he  was  so  patient  and  strong,  and  went  forward 
with  his  duties  so  quietly  and  steadily,  that  she  was  in- 
clined to  believe  that  his  feelings  toward  her  were  not 
very  deep,  or  else  that  he  was  so  constituted  that  affairs 
of  the  heart  did  not  give  him  very  much  trouble. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

LAURA  CHOOSES  HER  KNIGHT. 

"Why,  Laura,  how  your  cheeks  burn!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Arnot  as  she  entered  her  niece's  room  one  after- 
noon. 

"  Now,  don't  laugh  at  me  for  being  so  foohsh,  but  I 
have  become  absurdly  excited  over  this  story.  Scott 
was  well  called  the  '  Wizard  of  the  North.'  What  a  spell 
he  weaves  over  his  pages  !  When  reading  some  of  his 
descriptions  of  men  and  manners  in  those  old  chivalric 
times,  I  feel  that  I  have  been  born  some  centuries  too 
late — in  our  time  every  thing  is  so  matter-of-fact,  and  the 
men  are  so  prosaic.  The  world  moves  on  with  a  steady 
business  jog,  or,  to  change  the  figure  with  the  monoto- 
nous clank  of  uncle's  machinery.  My  castle  in  the  air 
would  be  the  counterpart  of  those  which  Scott  describes." 

"Romantic  as  ever,"  laughed  her  aunt;  "and  that 
reminds  me,  by  the  way,  of  the  saying  that  romantic  girls 
always  marry  matter-of-fact  men,  which,  I  suppose,  will 
be  your  fate.  I  confess  I  much  prefer  our  own  age. 
Your  stony  castles  make  me  shiver  with  a  sense  of  dis- 
comfort;  and  as  for  the  men,  1  imagine  they  are  much 
the  same  now  as  then  for  human  nature  does  not  change 
much." 

"  O,  auntie,  what  a  prosaic  speech  !  Uncle  might 
have  made  it  himself.  The  idea  of  men  being  much  the 
same  now  !  Why,  in  that  day  there  were  the  widest  and 
most  picturesque  differences  between  men  of  the  same* 
rank.  There  were  horrible  villains,  and  then,  to  van- 
quish these  and  undo  the  mischief  they  were  ever  cattis- 
377 


378  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

ing,  there  were  knights  sans  peur  et  sans  reproche.  But 
now  a  gentleman  is  a  gentleman,  and  all  made  up  very 
much  in  the  same  style,  like  their  dress  coats.  I  would 
like  to  have  seen  at  least  one  genuine  knight — a  man 
good  enough  and  brave  enough  to  do  and  to  dare  any 
thing  to  which  he  could  be  impelled  by  a  most  chivalric 
•sense  of  duty.  About  the  most  heroic  thing  a  man  ever 
did  for  me  was  to  pick  up  my  fan." 

Mrs.  Arnot  thought  of  one  man  whose  heart  was  al- 
most breaking  for  her,  and  yet  who  maintained  such  a 
quiet,  masterful  self-control  that  the  object  of  his  passion, 
which  had  become  hke  a  torturing  flame,  was  not  sub- 
jected to  even  the  shghtest  annoyance  ;  and  she  said, 
"You  are  satirical  to-day.  In  my  opinion  there  are  as 
true  knights  now  as  your  favorite  author  ever  described." 

'*  Not  in  Hillaton,"  laughed  Laura,  "  or  else  their  dis- 
guise is  perfect." 

"  Yes,  in  Hillaton,"  replied  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  some 
warmth,  "  and  among  the  visitors  at  this  house.  I  know 
of  one  who  bids  fair  to  fulfill  my  highest  ideal  of  knight- 
hood, and  I  think  you  will  do  me  the  justice  to  believe 
that  my  standard  is  not  a  low  one." 

"Auntie,  you  fairly  take  away  my  breath!"  said 
Laura,  in  the  same  half-jesting  spirit.  "Where  have 
my  eyes  been?  Pray,  who  is  this  paragon,  who  must, 
indeed,  be  nearly  perfect,  to  satisfy  your  standard?" 

"  You  must  discover  him  for  yourself;  as  you  say,  he 
appears  to  be  but  a  gentleman,  and  would  be  the  last 
one  in  the  world  to  think  of  himself  as  a  knight,  or  to  fill 
your  ideal  of  one.  You  must  remember  the  character  of 
our  age.  If  one  of  your  favorite  knights  should  step, 
armed  cap-a-pie,  out  of  Scott's  pages,  all  the  dogs  in 
town  would  be  at  his  heels,  and  he  would  probably  bring 
up  at  the  station-house.  My  knight  promises  to  become 
the  flower  of  his  own  age.  Now  I  think  of  it,  I  do  not 
like  the  conventional  word  '  flower,'  as  used  in  this  con- 


LAURA    CHOOSES  HER   KNIGHT.  379 

nection,  for  my  knight  is  steadily  growing  strong  like  a 
young  oak.  I  hope  I  may  live  to  see  the  man  he  will 
eventually  become." 

"You  know  well,  auntie,"  said  Laura,  "that  I  have 
not  meant  half  I  have  said.  The  men  of  our  day  are 
certainly  equal  to  the  women,  and  I  shall  not  have  to 
look  far  to  find  my  superior  in  all  respects.  I  must  ad- 
mit, however,  that  your  words  have  piqued  my  curi- 
osity, and  I  am  rather  glad  you  have  not  named  this 
'  heart  of  oak,'  for  the  effort  to  discover  him  will  form  a 
pleasant  httle  excitement." 

"  Were  I  that  way  inclined,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  smiUng, 
"  I  would  be  wiUing  to  wager  a  good  deal  that  you  will 
hit  upon  the  wrong  man." 

Laura  became  for  a  time  quite  a  close  student  of  human 
nature,  observing  narrowly  the  physiognomy  and  weigh- 
ing the  words  and  manner,  of  her  many  gentleman  ac- 
quaintances ;  but  while  she  found  much  to  respect,  and 
even  to  admire,  in  some,  she  was  not  sure  that  any  one 
of  them  answered  to  her  aunt's  description.  Nor  could 
she  obtain  any  farther  light  by  inquiring  somewhat  inta 
their  antecedents.  As  for  Mrs.  Arnot,  she  was  consider- 
ably amused,  but  continued  perfectly  non-committal. 

After  Laura  had  quite  looked  through  her  acquaint- 
ances Haldane  made  one  of  his  infrequent  calls,  but  as 
Mr.  Beaumont  was  also  present  she  gave  to  her  quondam 
lover  scarcely  more  than  a  kindly  word  of  greeting,  and 
then  forgot  his  existence.  It  did  not  occur  to  her,  any 
more  than  it  would  to  Haldane  himself,  that  he  was  the 
knight. 

Mr.  Arnot,  partly  out  of  a  grim  humor  peculiarly  his 
own,  and  partly  to  extenuate  his  severity  tow^ard  the 
youth,  had  sent  to  his  niece  all  the  city  papers  contain- 
ing unfavorable  references  to  Haldane,  and  to  her  mind 
the  associations  created  by  those  disgraceful  scenes  were 
still  inseparable  from  him.     She  honestly  respected  him 


380  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

for  his  resolute  effort  to  reform,  as  she  would  express  it, 
and  as  a  sincere  Christian  girl  she  wished  him  the  very 
best  of  success,  but  this  seemed  as  far  as  her  regard  for 
him  could  ever  go.  She  treated  him  kindly  where  most 
others  in  her  station  would  not  recognize  him  at  all,  but 
such  was  the  delicacy  and  refinement  of  her  nature  that 
she  shrank  from  one  who  had  been  capable  of  acts  like 
his.  The  youth  who  had  annoyed  her  with  his  passion, 
whom  she  had  seen  fall  upon  the  floor  in  gross  intoxica- 
tion, who  had  been  dragged  through  the  streets  as  a 
criminal,  and  who  twice  had  been  in  jail,  was  still  a  vivid 
memory.  She  knew  comparatively  little  about,  and  did 
not  understand,  the  man  of  to-day.  Beyond  the  general 
facts  that  he  was  doing  well  and  doing  good,  it  was  evi- 
dent that,  by  reason  of  old  and  disagreeable  associations, 
she  did  not  wish  to  hear  much  about  him,  and  Mrs. 
Arnot  had  the  wisdom  to  see  that  time  and  the  young 
man's  own  actions  would  do  more  to  remove  prejudice 
from  the  mind  of  her  niece,  as  well  as  from  the  memory 
of  society  in  general,  than  could  any  words  of  hers. 

Of  course,  such  a  girl  as  Laura  had  many  admirers, 
and  among  them  Mr.  Beaumont  was  evidently  winning 
the  first  place  in  her  esteem.  Whether  he  were  the 
knight  that  her  aunt  had  in  mind  or  no,  she  was  not  sure, 
but  he  realized  her  ideal  more  completely  than  any  man 
whom  she  had  ever  met.  He  did,  indeed,  seem  the 
"  perfect  flower  of  his  age,"  although  she  was  not  so  sure 
of  the  oak-like  qualities.  She  often  asked  herself  wherein 
she  could  find  fault  with  him  or  with  all  that  related  to 
him,  and  even  her  delicate  discrimination  could  scarcely 
find  a  vulnerable  point.  He  was  fine-looking,  his  heavy 
side-whiskers  redeeming  his  face  from  effeminacy  ;  he 
was  tall  and  elegant  in  his  proportions  ;  his  taste  in  his 
dress  was  quiet  and  faultless ;  he  possessed  the  most  re- 
fined and  highly-cultured  mind  of  any  man  whom  she 
had  known  ;  his  family  was  exceedingly  proud  and  aris- 


LAURA    CHOOSES  HER   KNIGHT,  381 

tocratic,  but  as  far  as  there  can  be  reason  for  these  char- 
acteristics, this  old  and  vveahhy  family  had  such  reason. 
Laura  certainly  could  not  find  fault  with  these  traits,  for 
from  the  first  Mr.  Beaumont's  parents  had  sought  to  pay 
her  especial  attention.  It  was  quite  evident  that  they 
thought  that  the  orphaned  girl  who  was  so  richly  dowered 
with  wealth  and  beauty  might  make  as  good  a  wife  for 
their  matchless  son  as  could  be  found,  and  such  an  opin- 
ion on  their  part  was,  indeed,  a  high  compliment  to 
Laura's  birth  and  breeding.  No  one  else  in  Hillaton 
would  have  been  thought  of  with  any  equanimity. 

The  son  was  inclined  to  take  the  same  view  as  that  en- 
tertained by  his  parents,  but,  as  the  party  most  nearly 
interested,  he  felt  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  scrutinize 
very  closely  and  deliberately  the  woman  who  might  be- 
come his  wife,  and  surely  this  was  a  sensible  thing  to  do. 

There  was  nothing  mercenary  or  coarse  in  his  delicate 
analysis  and  close  observation.  Far  from  it.  Mr.  Beau- 
mont was  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  look  a  lady  over 
as  he  would  a  bale  of  merchandise.  More  than  all  things 
else,  Mr.  Beaumont  was  a  cofuioisseiir,  and  he  sought 
Mrs.  Arnot's  parlors  with  increasing  frequency  becau-se 
he  believed  that  he  would  there  find  the  woman  best  fit- 
ted to  become  the  chief  ornament  of  the  stately  family 
mansion. 

Laura  had  soon  become  conscious  of  this  close  tenta- 
tive scrutiny,  and  at  first  she  had  been  mclined  to  resent 
its  cool  deliberateness.  But,  remembering  that  a  man 
certainly  has  a  right  to  learn  well  the  character  of  the 
woman  whom  he  may  ask  to  be  his  wife,  she  felt  that 
there  w-as  nothing  in  his  action  of  which  she  could  com- 
plain ;  and  it  soon  became  a  matter  of  pride  with  her,  as 
much  as  any  thing  else,  to  satisfy  those  fastidious  eyes 
that  hitherto  had  critically  looked  the  world  over,  and  in 
vain,  for  a  pearl  with  a  luster  sufficiently  clear.  She  be- 
gan to  study  his  taste,  to  dress  for  him,  to  sing  for  him, 


382   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

to  read  his  favorite  authors  ;  and  so  perfect  was  his  taste 
that  she  found  herself  aided  and  enriched  by  it.  He 
was  her  superior  in  these  matters,  for  he  had  made 
them  his  life-study.  The  first  hour  that  she  spent  with 
him  in  a  picture-gallery  was  long  remembered,  for  never 
before  had  those  fine  and  artistic  marks  which  make  a 
painting  great  been  so  clearly  pointed  out  to  her.  She 
was  brought  to  beheve  that  this  man  could  lead  her  to 
the  highest  point  of  culture  to  which  she  could  attain,  and 
satisfy  every  refined  taste  that  she  possessed.  It  seemed 
as  if  he  could  make  life  one  long  gallery  of  beautiful 
objects,  through  which  she  might  stroll  in  elegant  leisure, 
€ver  conscious  that  he  w^ho  stood  by  to  minister  and  ex- 
plain was  looking  away  from  all  things  else  in  admiration 
•of  herself. 

The  prospect  was  too  alluring.  Laura  was  not  an  ad- 
vanced female,  with  a  mission  ;  she  was  simply  a  young 
and  lovely  woman,  capable  of  the  noblest  action  and 
feeling  should  the  occasion  demand  them,  but  naturally 
luxurious  and  beauty-loving  in  her  tastes,  and  inchned  to 
shun  the  prosaic  side  of  life. 

She  made  Beaumont  feel  that  she  also  was  critical  and 
exacting.  She  had  lived  too  long  under  Mrs.  Arnot's  in- 
fluence to  be  satisfied  with  a  man  who  merely  lived  for 
the  pleasure  he  could  get  out  of  each  successive  day. 
He  saw  that  she  demanded  that  he  should  have  a  pur- 
pose and  aim  in  life,  and  he  skillfully  met  this  require- 
ment by  frequently  descanting  on  esthetic  culture  as  the 
great  lever  which  could  move  the  world,  and  by  suggest- 
ing that  the  great  question  of  his  future  was  how  he  could 
best  bring  this  culture  to  the  people.  As  a  Christian,  she 
took  issue  with  him  as  to  its  being  f/ie  great  lever,  but 
was  enthusiastic  over  It  as  a  most  powerful  means  of  ele- 
vating the  masses,  and  she  often  found  herself  dreaming 
•over  how  much  a  man  gifted  with  Mr.  Beaumont's  ex- 
quisite taste  and  large  wealth  could  do  by  placing  within 


LAURA    CHOOSES  HER  KNIGHT.  383 

the  reach  of  the  multitude  objects  of  elevating  art  and 
beauty. 

By  a  fine  instinct  she  felt,  rather  than  saw,  that  Mrs. 
Arnot  did  not  specially  hke  the  seemingly  faultless  man, 
and  was  led  to  believe  that  her  aunt's  ideal  knight  was 
to  be  found  among  some  of  the  heartier  young  men  who 
were  bent  on  doing  good  in  the  old-fashioned  ways  ;  and, 
with  a  tendency  not  unnatural  in  one  so  young  and  ro- 
mantic, she  thought  ot  her  aunt  as  being  a  bit  old-fash- 
ioned and  prosaic  herself.  In  her  youthful  and  ardent 
imagination  Beaumont  came  to  fill  more  and  more  defi- 
nitely her  ideal  of  the  modern  knight — a  man  who 
summed  up  within  himself  the  perfect  culture  of  his  age, 
and  who  was  proposing  to  diffuse  that  culture  as  widely 
as  possible. 

"You  do  not  admire  Mr.  Beaumont,"  said  Laura  a 
little  abruptly  to  her  aunt  one  day. 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Laura  ;  I  do  admire  him  very 
much." 

"  Well,  you  do  not  like  him,  then,  to  speak  more  cor- 
rectly ;  he  takes  no  hold  upon  your  sympathies." 

"There  is  some  truth  in  your  last  remark,  I  must  ad- 
mit. For  some  reason  he  does  not.  Perhaps  it  is  my 
fault,  and  I  have  sometimes  asked  myself.  Is  Mr.  Beau- 
mont capable  of  strong  affection  or  self-sacrificing  ac- 
tion? has  he  much  heart?  " 

'•  I  think  you  do  him  injustice  in  these  respects,"  said 
Laura  warmly. 

"  Quite  probably,"  replied  Mrs.  Arnot,  adding  with  a 
mischievous  smile,  vi^hich  brought  the  rich  color  to  her 
niece's  cheeks,  "  Perhaps  you  are  in  a  better  position  to 
judge  of  his  possession  of  these  qualities  than  I  am.  Thus 
far  he  has  given  me  only  the  opportunity  of  echoing  so- 
ciety's verdict — He  is  a  perfect  gentleman.  I  wish  he 
were  a  better  Christian,"  she  concluded  gravely. 

"  I  think  he  is  a  Christian,  auntie." 


384   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Yes,  dear,  in  a  certain  esthetic  sense.  But  far  be  it 
from  me  to  judge  him.  Like  the  rest  of  the  world,  I  re- 
spect him  as  an  honorable  gentleman." 

A  few  days  after  this  conversation  Mr.  Beaumont  drove 
a  pair  of  coal-black  horses  to  Mrs.  Arnot's  door,  and  in- 
vited Laura  to  take  a  drive.  When,  in  the  twilight,  she 
returned,  she  went  straight  to  her  aunt's  private  parlor, 
and,  curling  down  at  her  knees,  as  was  her  custom  when 
a  child,  said, 

"  Give  me  your  blessing,  auntie  ;  your  congratulations, 
also — I  hope,  although  I  am  not  so  sure  of  these.  I  have 
found  my  knight,  though  probably  not  yours.  See!" 
and  she  held  up  her  finger,  with  a  great  flashing  diamond 
upon  it. 

Mrs.  Arnot  took  the  girl  in  her  arms  and  said,  "  I  do 
bless  you,  my  child,  and  I  think  I  can  congratulate  you 
also.  On  every  principle  of  worldly  prudence  and 
worldly  foresight  I  am  sure  I  can.  It  will  be  very  hard 
ever  to  give  you  up  to  another  ;  and  yet  I  am  growing 
old,  and  I  am  glad  that  you,  who  are  such  a  sacred 
charge  to  me,  have  chosen  one  who  stands  so  high  in 
the  estimation  of  all,  and  who  is  so  abundantly  able  to 
gratify  your  tastes." 

"Yes,  auntie,  I  think  1  am  fortunate,"  said  Laura, 
with  complacent  emphasis.  "  1  have  found  a  man  not 
only  able  to  gratify  all  my  tastes — and  you  know  that 
many  of  them  are  rather  expensive — but  he  himself  satis- 
fies my  most  critical  taste,  and  even  fills  out  the  ideal  of 
my  fancy," 

Mrs.  Arnot  gave  a  sudden  sigh. 

"  Now,  auntie,  what,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  can  that 
foreboding  sigh  mean  ?  " 

"  You  have  not  said  that  he  satisfied  your  heart." 

"0  1  think  he  does  fully,"  said  Laura,  hastily,  though 
with  a  faint  misgiving.  "  These  tender  feelings  will  come 
in  their  own  good  time.     We  have  not  got  far  enough 


LAURA    CHOOSES  HER  KNIGHT.  385 

along  for  them  yet.  Besides,  I  never  could  have  endured 
a  passionate  lover.  I  was  cured  of  any  such  tastes  long 
ago,  you  remember,"  she  added,  with  a  faint  laugh. 

"  Poor  Egbert !  "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  such  sad 
emphasis  that  Laura  looked  up  into  her  face  inquiringly 
as  she  asked, 

"  You  don't  think  he  will  care  much,  do  you  ? " 

"Yes,  Laura;  you  know  he  will  care,  perhaps  more 
deeply  than  I  do  ;  but  I  believe  that  he  will  wish  you 
happiness  as  truly  and  honestly  as  myself." 

"  O,  auntie  !  how  can  it  be  that  he  will  care  as  much 
as  yourself? " 

"Is  it  possible,  Laura,  that  you  have  failed  to  detect 
his  regard  for  you  in  all  these  months?  I  detected  it  at 
a  glance,  and  felt  sure  that  you  had  also." 

"  So  I  did,  auntie,  long  since,  but  I  supposed  it  was, 
as  you  say,  a  mere  regard  that  did  not  trouble  him  much. 
I  should  be  sorry  to  think  that  it  was  otherwise." 

"At  all  events,  it  has  not  troubled  you  much,  what* 
ever  it  may  have  cost  him.  You  hardly  do  Haldane 
justice.  Your  allusion  to  his  former  passion  should  re- 
mind you  that  he  still  possesses  the  same  ardent  and  im- 
petuous nature,  but  it  is  under  control.  You  cannot  re- 
turn his  deep,  yet  unobtrusive,  love,  and,  as  the  world  is 
constituted,  it  is  probably  well  for  you  that  this  is  true  ; 
but  I  cannot  bear  that  it  should  have  no  better  reward 
than  your  last  rather  contemptuous  allusion." 

"  Forgive  me,  auntie  ;  I  did  not  imagine  that  he  felt 
as  you  seem  to  think.  Indeed,  in  my  happiness  and  pre- 
occupation, I  have  scarcely  thought  of  him  at  all.  His 
love  has,  in  truth,  been  unobtrusive.  So  scrupulously 
has  he  kept  it  from  my  notice  that  I  had  thought  and 
hoped  that  it  had  but  little  place  in  his  mind.  But  if  you 
are  right,  I  am  very  very  sorry.  Why  is  the  waste  of 
these  precious  heart-treasures  permitted?"  and  gather- 
ing tears  attested  her  sincerity. 


386   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"That  is  an  old,  old  question,  which  the  world  has 
never  answered.  The  scientists  tell  us  that  by  a  law  of 
nature  no  force  is  ever  lost.  If  this  be  true  in  the  phys- 
ical world,  it  certainly  should  be  in  the  spiritual.  I  also 
believe  that  an  honest,  unselfish  love  can  enrich  the  heart 
that  gives  it,  even  though  it  receives  no  other  reward. 
But  you  have  no  occasion  to  blame  yourself,  Laura.  It 
is  one  of  those  things  which  never  could  have  been  helped. 
Besides,  Haldane  is  serving  a  Master  who  is  pledged  to 
shape  seeming  evils  for  his  good.  I  had  no  thought  of 
speaking  of  him  at  all,  only  your  remark  seemed  so  like 
injusdce  that  I  could  not  be  silent.  In  the  future,  more- 
over, you  may  do  something  for  him.  Society  is  too  un- 
relenting, and  does  not  sufficiently  recognize  the  struggle 
he  has  made,  and  is  yet  making  ;  and  he  is  so  morbidly 
sensitive  that  he  will  not  take  any  thing  that  even  looks 
like  social  alms.  You  will  be  in  a  position  to  help  him 
toward  the  recognition  which  he  deserves,  for  I  should  be 
sorry  to  see  him  become  a  lonely  and  isolated  man.  Of 
course,  you  will  have  to  do  this  very  carefully,  but  your 
own  graceful  tact  will  best  guide  you  in  this  matter.  I 
only  wish  you  to  appreciate  the  brave  fight  he  is  making 
and  the  character  he  is  forming,  and  not  to  think  of  him 
merely  as  a  commonplace,  well-meaning  man,  who  is  at 
last  trying  to  do  right,  and  who  will  be  fairly  content 
with  life  if  he  can  secure  his  bread  and  butter." 

"  I  will  remember  what  you  say,  and  do  my  very 
best,"  said  Laura  earnestly,  "for  I  do  sincerely  respect 
Mr.  Haldane  for  his  efforts  to  retrieve  the  past,  and  I 
should  despise  myself  did  I  not  appreciate  the  delicate 
consideration  he  has  shown  for  me  if  he  has  such  feehngs 
as  you  suppose.  Auntie!"  she  exclaimed  after  a  mo- 
ment, a  sudden  hght  breaking  in  upon  her,  "Mr.  Hal- 
dane is  your  knight." 

"  And  a  very  plain,  prosaic  knight,  no  doubt,  he  seems 
to  you." 


LAUBA    CHOOSES  HER  KNIGHT.  387 

"  I  confess  that  he  does,  and  yet  when  I  think  of  it  I 
admit  that  he  has  fought  his  way  up  against  tremendous 
odds.  Indeed,  his  present  position  in  contrast  wdth  what 
he  was  involves  so  much  hard  fighting  that  I  can  only 
think  of  him  as  one  of  those  plain,  rugged  men  who  have 
risen  from  the  ranks." 

"  Look  for  the  plain  and  rugged  characteristics  when 
he  next  calls,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  quietly.  "One  would 
have  supposed  that  such  a  rugged  nature  would  have  in- 
terposed some  of  his  angles  in  your  way." 

"  Forgive  me,  auntie  ;  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  I 
know  very  little  about  your  knight  ;  but  it  is  natural  that 
I  should  much  prefer  my  own.  Your  knight  is  Hke  one 
of  those  remorseful  men  of  the  olden  time  who,  partly 
from  faith  and  partly  in  penance  for  past  misdeeds,  dons 
a  suit  of  plain  heavy  iron  armor,  and  goes  away  to  parts 
unknown  to  fight  the  infidel.  My  knight  is  clad  in  shin- 
ing steel  ;  nor  is  the  steel  less  true  because  overlaid  with 
a  filagree  of  gold  ;  and  he  will  make  the  world  better  not 
by  striking  rude  and  ponderous  blows,  but  by  teaching 
it  something  of  his  own  fair  courtesy  and  his  own  rich 
culture." 

"Your  description  of  Haldane  is  very  fanciful  and  a 
little  far-fetched,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  laughing  ;  "  should  I 
reply  in  like  vein  I  would  only  add  that  I  believe  that  he 
will  henceforth  keep  the  '  white  cross  '  on  his  knightly 
mantle  unstained.  Already  he  seems  to  have  won  a 
place  in  that  ancient  and  honorable  order  established  so 
many  centuries  ago,  the  members  of  w^hich  were  entitled 
to  inscribe  upon  their  shields  the  legend,  '  He  that  ruleth 
his  own  spirit  is  better  than  he  that  taketh  a  city.'  But 
we  are  carrying  this  fanciful  imagery  too  far,  and  had 
better  drop  it  altogether.  I  know  that  you  will  do  for 
Haldane  all  that  womanly  delicacy  permits,  and  that  is 
all  I  wish.  Mr.  Beaumont's  course  toward  you  com- 
mands my  entire  respect.     He  long  since  asked  both 


388   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

your  uncle's  consent  and  mine  to  pay  you  his  address 3S, 
and  while  we,  of  course,  gave  our  approval,  we  have  left 
you  wholly  free  to  follow  the  promptings  of  your  own 
heart.  In  the  world's  estimation,  Laura,  it  will  be  a 
brilhant  alhance  for  each  party  ;  but  my  prayer  shall  be 
that  it  may  be  a  happy  and  sympathetic  union,  and  that 
you  may  find  an  unfailing  and  increasing  content  in  each 
other's  society.  Nothing  can  compensate  for  the  absence 
of  a  warm,  kind  heart,  and  the  nature  that  is  without  it  is 
hke  a  home  without  a  heart-stone  and  a  fire  ;  the  larger 
and  more  stately  it  is,  the  colder  and  more  cheerless  it 
seems." 

Laura  understood  her  aunt's  allusion  to  her  own  bitter 
disappointment,  and  she  almost  shivered  at  the  possi- 
bihty  of  meeting  a  like  experience. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

MRS.    ARNOT's   knight. 

It  will  not  be  supposed  that  Haldane  was  either  blind 
or  indifferent  during  the  long  months  in  which  Beaumont, 
like  a  skillful  engineer,  was  making  his  regular  ap- 
proaches to  the  fair  lady  whom  he  would  win.  He  early 
foresaw  what  appeared  to  him  would  be  the  inevitable 
result,  and  yet,  in  spite  of  all  his  fortitude,  and  the 
frequency  with  which  he  assured  himself  that  it  was 
natural,  that  it  was  best,  that  it  was  right,  that  this  peer- 
less woman  should  wed  a  man  of  Beaumont's  position 
and  culture,  still  that  gentleman's  assured  dehberate  ad- 
vance was  like  the  slow  and  torturing  contraction  of  the 
walls  of  that  terrible  chamber  in  the  Inquisition  which, 
by  an  imperceptible  movement,  closed  in  upon  and 
crushed  the  prisoner.  For  a  time  he  felt  that  he  could 
not  endure  the  pain,  and  he  grew  haggard  under  it. 

"What's  the  matter,  my  boy?"  said  Mr.  Growther 
abruptly  to  him  one  evening.  "  You  look  as  if  some- 
thing was  a-gnavvin'  and  a-eatin*  your  very  heart  out." 

He  satisfied  his  old  friend  by  saying  that  he  did  not 
feel  well,  and  surely  one  sick  at  heart  as  he  was  might 
justly  say  this. 

Mr.  Growther  immediately  suggested  as  remedies  all 
the  drugs  he  had  ever  heard  of,  and  even  volunteered  to 
go  after  them  ;,  but  Haldane  said  with  a  smile, 

"  I  would  not  survive  if  I  took  a  tenth  part  of  the 
medicines  you  have  named,  and  not  one  of  them  would 
do  me  any  good.     I  think  I'll  take  a  walk  instead." 

Mr.  Growther  thought  a  few  moments,  and  muttered 


390   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

to  himself,  "What  a  cussed  old  fool  I've  been  to  think 
that  rhubob  and  jallup  could  touch  his  case  !  He's  got 
something  on  his  mind,"  and  with  a  commendable 
delicacy  he  forbore  to  question  and  pry. 

Gradually,  however,  Haldane  obtained  patience  and 
then  strength  to  meet  what  seemed  inevitable,  and  to  go 
forward  with  the  strong,  measured  tread  of  a  resolute 
soldier. 

While  passing  through  his  lonely  and  bitter  conflict  he 
learned  the  value  and  significance  of  that  ancient 
prophecy,  "  He  is  despised  and  rejected  of  men  ;  a  man 
of  sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief ;  and  we  hid,  as  it 
were,  our  faces  from  him."  How  long,  long  ago  God 
planned  and  purposed  to  win  the  sympathy  and  con- 
fidence of  the  suffering  by  coming  so  close  to  them  in 
like  experience  that  they  could  feel  sure — yes,  know — 
that  He  felt  with  them  and  for  them. 

Never  before  had  the  young  man  so  fully  realized  how 
vital  a  privilege  it  was  to  be  a  disciple  of  Christ — to  be 
near  to  Him — and  enjoy  what  resembled  a  companion- 
ship akin  to  that  possessed  by  those  who  followed  Him  up 
and  down  the  rugged  paths  of  Judea  and  Galilee. 

When,  at  last,  Laura's  engagement  became  a  recog- 
nized fact,  he  received  the  intelligence  as  quietly  as  the 
soldier  who  is  ordered  to  take  and  hold  a  position  that 
will  long  try  his  fortitude  and  courage  to  the  utmost. 

As  for  Laura,  the  weeks  that  followed  her  engagement 
were  like  a  beautiful  dream,  but  one  that  was  created 
largely  by  the  springing  hopes  and  buoyancy  of  youth, 
and  the  witchery  of  her  own  vivid  imagination.  The 
spring-time  had  come  again,  and  the  beauty  and  promise 
of  her  own  future  seemed  reflected  in  nature.  Every 
day  she  took  long  drives  into  the  country  with  her  lover, 
or  made  expeditions  to  picture  galleries  in  New  York  ; 
again,  they  would  visit  public  parks  or  beautiful  private 
grounds  in  which  the  landscape  gardener  had  lavished 


MBS.    ABNOrS  KNIGHT.  391 

his  art.  She  hved  and  fairly  reveled  in  a  world  of  beauty, 
and  for  the  time  it  intoxicated  her  with  delight. 

There  was  also  such  a  chorus  of  congratulation  that 
she  could  not  help  feeling  complacent.  Society  indorsed 
her  choice  so  emphatically  and  universally  that  she  was 
sure  she  had  made  no  mistake.  She  was  caused  to  feel 
that  she  had  carried  off  the  richest  prize  ever  known  ij. 
Hillaton,  and  she  w^as  sufficiently  human  to  be  elated 
over  the  fact. 

Nor  was  the  congratulation  all  on  one  side.  Society 
was  quite  as  positive  Uiat  Beaumont  had  been  equally 
fortunate,  and  there  were  some  that  insisted  that  he  had 
gained  the  richer  prize.  It  was  known  that  Laura  had 
considerable  property  in  her  own  name,  and  it  was  the 
general  belief  that  she  would  eventually  become  heiress 
of  a  large  part  of  the  colossal  fortune  supposed  to  be  in 
the  possession  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arnot.  In  respect  to 
character,  beauty,  accomphshments — in  brief,  the  minor 
considerations  in  the  w^orld's  estimation,  it  was  admitted 
by  all  that  Laura  had  few  superiors.  Mr.  Beaumont's 
parents  were  lavish  in  the  manifestations  of  their  pleas- 
ure and  approval.  And  thus  it  would  seem  that  these 
two  lives  were  fitly  joined  by  the  affinity  of  kindred  tastes 
by  the  congenial  habits  of  equal  rank,  and  by  universal 
acclamation. 

Gradually,  however,  the  glamour  thrown  around  hei 
new  relationship  by  its  very  novelty,  by  unnumbered  con- 
gratulations, and  the  excitement  attendant  on  so  mo- 
mentous a  step  in  a  young  lady's  life,  began  to  pass 
away.  Every  fine  drive  in  the  country  surrounding  the 
city  had  been  taken  again  and  again  ;  all  the  fine  galler- 
ies had  been  visited,  and  the  finer  pictures  admired  and 
dwelt  upon  in  Mr.  Beaumont's  refined  and  quiet  tones, 
until  there  was  little  more  to  be  said.  Laura  had  come 
to  know  exactly  why  her  favorite  paintings  were  beauti- 
ful,  and  precisely   the  marks  v/lhch  gave  them  value. 


392   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

The  pictures  remained  just  as  beautiful,  but  she  became 
rather  tired  of  hearing  Mr.  Beaumont  analyze  them.  Not 
that  she  could  find  any  fault  with  what  he  said,  but  it  was 
the  same  thing  over  and  over  again.  She  became,  slowly 
and  unpleasantly,  impressed  with  the  thought  that,  while 
Mr.  Beaumont  would  probably  take  the.  most  correct 
view  of  every  object  that  met  his  eye,  be  would  always 
take  the  same  view,  and,  having  once  heard  him  give  an 
opinion,  she  could  anticipate  on  all  future  occasions  just 
what  he  would  say.  We  all  know,  by  disagreeable  ex- 
perience, that  no  man  is  so  wearisome  as  he  who  repeats 
himself  over  and  over  again  without  variation,  no  matter 
how  approved  his  first  utterance  may  have  been.  Beau- 
mont was  remarkably  gifted  with  the  power  of  forming  a 
correct  judgment  of  the  technical  work  of  others  in  all 
departments  of  art  and  literature,  and  to  the  perfecting 
of  this  accurate  esthetic  taste  he  had  given  the  energies 
of  his  maturer  years.  He  had  carefully  scrutinized  in 
every  land  all  that  the  best  judges  considered  pre-emi- 
nently great  and  beautiful,  but  his  critical  powers  were 
those  of  an  expert,  a  connoisseur,  only.  His  mind  had 
no  freshness  or  originality.  He  had  very  little  imagina- 
tion. Laura's  spirit  would  kindle  before  a  beautiful 
painting  until  her  eyes  suffused  with  tears.  He  would 
observe  coolly,  with  an  eye  that  measured  and  compared 
every  thing  with  the  received  canons  of  art,  and  if  the 
drawing  and  coloring  were  correct  he  was  simply — satis- 
fied. 

Again,  he  had  a  habit  of  forgetting  that  he  had  given 
his  artistic  views  upon  a  subject  but  a  brief  time  before, 
and  would  repeat  them  almost  word  for  word,  and  often 
his  polished  sentences  and  quiet  monotone  were  as  weari- 
some as  a  thrice-told  tale. 

As  time  wore  on  the  disagreeable  thought  began  to 
suggest  itself  to  Laura  that  the  man  himself  had  culmi- 
nated ;  that  he  was  perfected  to  the  limit  of  his  nature, 


3IRS.    ARNOT'S  KNIGHT,  393 

and  finished  off.  She  foresaw  with  dread  that  she  might 
reach  a  point  before  very  long  when  she  would  know  all 
that  he  knew,  or,  at  least,  all  that  he  kept  in  his  mind, 
and  that  thereafter  every  thing  would  be  endless  repeti- 
tion to  the  end  of  life.  He  dressed  very  much  the  same 
every  day  ;  his  habits  were  very  uniform  and  methodical. 
In  the  world's  estimation  he  was,  indeed,  a  bright  lumi- 
nary, and  he  certainly  resembled  the  heavenly  bodies  in 
the  following  respects.  Laura  vyas  learning  that  she 
could  calculate  his  orbit  to  a  nicety,  and  know  before- 
hand what  he  would  do  and  say  in  given  conditions. 
When  she  came  to  know  him  better  she  might  be  able  to 
trace  the  unwelcome  resemblance  still  further,  in  the  fact 
that  he  did  not  seem  to  be  progressing  toward  any  thing, 
but  was  going  round  and  round  in  an  habitual  circle  of 
thought  and  action,  with  himself  as  the  center  of  his  uni- 
verse. 

Laura  resisted  the  first  and  infrequent  coming  of  these 
thoughts,  as  if  they  were  suggestions  of  the  evil  one  ; 
but,  in  spite  of  all  effort,  all  self-reproach,  they  would  re- 
turn. Sometimes  as  little  a  thing  as  an  elegant  pose — so 
perfect,  indeed,  as  to  suggest  that  it  had  been  studied  and 
learned  by  heart  years  ago — would  occasion  them,  and 
the  happy  girl  began  to  sigh  over  a  faint  foreboding  of 
trouble. 

By  no  word  or  thought  did  she  ever  show  him  what  was 
passing  in  her  mind,  and  she  would  have  to  show  such 
thoughts  plainly  before  he  would  even  dream  of  their  ex- 
istence, for  no  man  ever  more  thoroughly  believed  in 
himself  than  did  Auguste  Beaumont.  He  was  satisfied 
he  had  learned  the  best  and  most  approved  way  of  doing 
every  thing,  and  as  his  action  was  always  the  same,  it 
was,  therefore,  always  right.  Moreover,  Laura  eventu- 
ally divined,  while  calling  with  him  on  his  parents,  that 
the  greatest  heresy  and  most  aggravated  offense  that  any 
one  could  be  guilty  of  in  the  Beaumont  mansion  would 


394   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

be  to  find  fault  with  Auguste.  It  would  be  a  crime  for 
which  neither  reason  nor  palliation  could  be  found. 

Thus  the  prismatic  hues  which  had  surrounded  this 
man  began  to  fade  and  Laura,  who  had  hoped  to  escape 
the  prose  of  life,  was  reluctantly  compelled  to  admit  to 
herself  at  times  that  she  found  her  lover  tiresomely  prosy 
and  "  splendidly  null." 

In  the  meantime  Haldane  had  finished  the  studies  of 
his  second  year  at  the  medical  college,  and  had  won  the 
respect  of  his  instructors  by  his  careful  attention  to  the 
lectures,  and  by  a  certain  conscientious,  painstaking 
manner,  rather  than  by  the  display  of  any  striking  or  bril- 
liant quahties. 

One  July  evening,  before  taking  his  summer  vacation, 
he  called  on  Mrs.  Arnot.  The  sky  in  the  west  was  so 
threatening,  and  the  storm  came  on  so  rapidly,  that  Mr. 
Beaumont  did  not  venture  down  to  the  city  and  Laura, 
partly  to  fill  a  vacant  hour,  and  partly  to  discover 
wherein  the  man  of  to-day,  of  whom  her  aunt  could 
speak  in  such  high  terms,  differed  from  the  youth  that 
she,  even  as  an  immature  girl,  despised,  determined  to 
give  Haldane  a  little  close  observation.  When  he  en- 
tered she  was  at  the  piano,  practicing  a  very  difficult  and 
intricate  piece  of  music  that  Beaumont  had  recently 
brought  to  her,  and  he  said, 

"  Please  do  not  cease  playing.  Music,  which  is  a  part 
of  your  daily  fare,  is  to  me  a  rarely  tasted  luxury,  for 
you  know  that  in  Hillaton  there  are  but  few  public  con- 
certs even  in  winter." 

She  gave  him  a  glance  of  genuine  sympathy,  as  she  re- 
membered that  only  at  a  public  concert  where  he  could 
pay  his  way  to  an  unobtrusive  seat  could  he  find  oppor- 
tunity to  enjoy  that  which  was  a  part  of  her  daily  life. 
In  no  parlor  save  her  aunt's  could  he  enjoy  such  refin- 
ing pleasures,  and  for  a  reason  that  she  knew  well  he 
-had  rarely  availed  himself  of  the  privilege.     Then  an- 


MRS.   ARNOTS  KNIGHT.  395 

other  thought  followed  swiftly:  "Surely  a  man  so  iso- 
lated and  cut  off  from  these  esthetic  influences  which  Mr. 
Beaumont  regards  as  absolutely  essential,  must  have  be- 
come uncouth  and  angular  in  his  development."  The 
wish  to  discover  how  far  this  was  true  gave  to  her  obser- 
vation an  increasing  zest.  She  generously  resolved, 
however,  to  give  him  as  rich  a  musical  banquet  as  it  was 
in  her  power  to  furnish,  if  his  eye  and  manner  asked  for  it. 

"  Please  continue  what  you  were  playing,"  he  added, 
"  it  piques  my  curiosity." 

As  the  musical  intricacy  which  gave  the  rich  but  tan- 
gled fancies  of  a  master-mind  proceeded,  his  brow  knit 
in  perplexity,  and  at  its  close  he  shook  his  head  and  re- 
marked, 

"That  is  beyond  me.  Now  and  then  I  seemed  to 
catch  glimpses  of  meaning,  and  then  all  was  obscure 
again." 

"  It  is  beyond  me,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot  with  a  laugh. 
•'  Come,  Laura,  give  us  something  simple.  I  have  heard 
severely  classical  and  intricate  music  so  long  that  I  am 
ready  to  welcome  even  •  Auld  lang  syne.'  " 

"  I  also  will  enjoy  a  change  to  something  old  and  sim- 
ple," said  Laura,  and  her  fingers  glided  into  a  selection 
which  Haldane  instantly  recognized  as  Steibelt's  Storm 
Rondo. 

As  Laura  glanced  at  him  she  saw  his  deepening  color, 
and  then  it  suddenly  flashed  upon  her  when  she  had  first 
played  that  music  for  him,  and  her  own  face  flushed 
with  annoyance  at  her  forgetfulness.  After  playing  it 
partly  through  she  turned  to  her  music-stand  in  search 
of  something  else,  but  Haldane  said, 

"Please  finish  the  rondo.  Miss  Romeyn  ;  "  adding, 
with  a  frank  laugh,  "You  have,  no  doubt,  forgotten  it ; 
but  you  once,  by  means  of  this  music,  gave  me  one  of 
the  most  deserved  and  wholesome  lessons  I  ever  re- 
ceived." 


396   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Your  generous  acknowledgment  of  a  fancied  mistake 
at  that  time  should  have  kept  me  from  blunders  this 
evening,"  she  replied  in  a  pained  tone. 

With  a  steady  glance  that  held  her  eyes  he  said  very 
quietly,  and  almost  gently, 

"You  have  made  no  blunder.  Miss  Romeyn.  I  do 
not  ignore  the  past,  nor  do  I  wish  it  to  be  ignored  with 
painstaking  care.  I  am  simply  trying  to  face  it  and 
overcome  it  as  I  might  an  enemy.  I  may  be  wrong,  for 
you  know  I  have  had  little  chance  to  become  versed  in 
the  ways  of  good  society  ;  but  it  appears  to  me  that  it 
would  be  better  even  for  those  who  are  to  spend  but  a 
social  hour  together  that  they  should  be  free  from  the 
constraint  which  must  exist  when  there  is  a  constant  ef- 
fort to  shun  delicate  or  dangerous  ground.  Please  finish 
the  rondo  ;  and  also  please  remember  that  the  ice  is  not 
thin  here  and  there,"  he  added  with  a  smile. 

Laura  caught  her  aunt's  glance,  and  the  significant 
lighting  up  of  her  face,  and,  with  an  answ-ering  smile, 
she  said, 

"  If  you  will  permit  me  to  change  the  figure,  I  will 
suggest  that  you  have  broken  the  ice  so  completely  that 
I  shall  take  you  at  your  word,  and  play  and  sing  just 
what  you  wish  ;  "  and,  bent  upon  giving  the  young  man 
all  the  pleasure  she  could,  she  exerted  her  powers  to  the 
utmost  in  widely  varied  selections  ;  and  while  she  saw 
that  his  technical  knowledge  was  hmited,  it  was  clearly 
evident  that  he  possessed  a  nature  singularly  responsive 
to  musical  thoughts  and  effects  ;  indeed,  she  found  a 
peculiar  pleasure  and  incentive  in  glancing  at  his  face 
from  time  to  time,  for  she  saw  reflected  there  the  varied 
characteristics  of  the  melody.  But  once,  as  she  looked  up 
to  see  how  he  liked  an  old  Enghsh  ballad,  she  caught 
that  which  instantly  brought  the  hot  blood  into  her  face. 

Haldane  had  forgotten  himself,  forgotten  that  she  be- 
longed to  another,  and,  under  the  spell  of  the  old  love 


MES.    ABXOT'S  KNIGHT.  397 

song,  had  dropped  his  mask.  She  saw  his  heart  in  his 
gaze  of  deep,  intense  affection  more  plainly  than  spoken 
words  could  have  revealed  it. 

He  started  slightly  as  he  saw  her  conscious  blush, 
turned  pale  instead  of  becoming  red  and  embarrassed, 
and,  save  a  shght  compression  of  his  hps,  made  no  other 
movement.  She  sang  the  concluding  verse  of  the  ballad 
in  a  rather  unsympathetic  manner,  and,  after  a  light  in- 
strumental piece  devoid  of  sentiment,  rose  from  the  piano. 

Haldane  thanked  her  with  frank  heartiness,  and  then 
added  in  a  playful  manner  that,  although  the  concert  was 
over,  he  was  weather-bound  on  account  of  the  shower, 
and  would  therefore  try  to  compensate  them  for  giving 
him  shelter  by  relating  a  curious  story  which  was  not  only 
founded  on  fact,  but  all  fact ;  and  he  soon  had  both  of 
his  auditors  deeply  interested  in  one  of  those  strange  and 
varied  experiences  which  occasionally  occur  in  real  life, 
and  which  he  had  learned  through  his  mission  class. 
The  tale  was  so  full  of  lights  and  shadows  that  now  it 
provoked  to  laughter,  and  again  almost  moved  the  hs- 
teners  to  tears.  While  the  narrator  made  as  little  refer- 
ence to  himself  as  possible,  he  unconsciously  and  of  ne- 
cessity revealed  how  practically  and  vitally  useful  he  was 
to  the  class  among  whom  he  was  working.  Partly  to 
draw  him  out,  and  partly  to  learn  more  about  certain 
characters  in  whom  she  had  become  interested,  Mrs.  Ar- 
not  asked  after  one  and  another  of  Haldane's  "  difficult 
cases."  As  his  replies  suggested  inevitably  something  of 
their  dark  and  revolting  history,  Laura  again  forgot  her- 
self so  far  as  to  exclaim, 

"  How  can  you  work  among  such  people  ? " 

After  the  words  were  spoken  she  was  ready  to  wish 
that  she  had  bitten  her  tongue  out. 

"  Christ  worked  among  them,"  replied  he  gravely,  and 
then  he  added,  with  a  look  of  grateful  affection  toward 
Mrs.  Arnot,  "  Besides,  your  aunt  has  taught  me  by  a 


398   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

happy  experience  that  there  are  some  possibiUties  of  a 
change  for  the  better  in  '  such  people."  " 

"Mr.  Haldane,"  said  Laura  impetuously,  and  with  a 
burning  flush,  "  I  sincerely  beg  your  pardon.  As  you 
were  speaking  you  seemed  so  like  my  aunt  in  refinement 
and  character  that  you  banished  every  other  association 
from  my  mind." 

His  face  lighted  up  with  a  strong  expression  of  pleas- 
ure, and  he  said, 

"  I  am  glad  that  those  words  are  so  heartily  uttered, 
and  that  there  is  no  premeditation  in  them  ;  for  if  in  the 
faintest  and  farthest  degree  I  can  even  resemble  Mrs. 
Arnot,  I  shall  feel  that  I  am  indeed  making  progress." 

"  I  shall  say  what  is  in  my  mind  without  any  constraint 
whatever,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot.  "Years  ago,  Egbert,  when 
once  visiting  you  in  prison,  to  which  you  had  been  sent 
very  justly,  I  said  in  effect,  that  in  rising  above  yourself 
and  your  circumstances,  you  would  realize  my  ideal  of 
knighthood.  You  cannot  know  with  what  deep  pleasure 
I  tell  you  to-night  that  you  are  realizing  this  ideal  even 
beyond  my  hopes." 

"Mrs.  Arnot,"  replied  Haldane,  in  a  tone  that  trem- 
bled slightly,  "  I  was  justly  sent  to  that  prison,  and  to- 
night,  no  doubt,  I  should  have  been  in  some  other  prison- 
house  of  human  justice — quite  possibly,"  he  added,  in  a 
low,  shuddering  tone,  "  in  the  prison-house  of  God's 
justice — if  you  had  not  come  like  an  angel  of  mercy — if 
you  had  not  borne  with  me,  taught  me,  restrained  me, 
helped  me  with  a  patience  closely  akin  to  Heaven's  own. 
It  is  the  hope  and  prayer  of  my  hfe  that  I  may  some  day 
prove  how  I  appreciate  all  that  you  have  done  for  me. 
But,  see  ;  the  storm  is  over,  as  all  storms  will  be  in  time. 
Good  night,  and  good-by,"  and  he  lifted  her  hand  to  his 
lips  in  a  manner  that  was  at  once  so  full  of  homage  and 
gratitude,  and  also  the  grace  of  natural  and  unstudied  ac- 
tion, that  there  came  a  rush  of  tears  into  the  lady's  eyes. 


MRS.    ARNOT'S  KNIGHT.  399 

Laura  held  out  her  hand  and  said,  "  Mr.  Haldane,  you 
cannot  respect  me  more  than  you  have  taught  me  to  re- 
spect you." 

He  shook  his  head  at  these  words,  involuntarily  inti- 
mating that  she  did  not  know,  and  never  could  but  de- 
parted without  trusting  himself  to  reply. 

The  ladies  sat  quite  a  long  time  in  silence.  At  length 
Laura  remarked  with  a  sigh, 

"  Mr.  Haldane  is  mistaken.  The  ice  is  thin  here  and 
there,  but  I  had  no  idea  that  there  were  such  depths  be- 
neath it." 

Mrs.  Arnot  did  not  reply  at  once,  and  when  she  did 
perhaps  she  had  in  mind  other  experiences  than  those  of 
her  young  friend,  for  she  only  said  in  a  low  musing  tone, 

"  Yes,  he  is  right.     All  storms  will  be  over  in  time." 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

A   KNIGHTLY   DEED. 

The  year  previous  Haldane  had  buried  himself  among 
the  mountains  of  Maine,  but  he  resolved  to  spend  much 
of  the  present  summer  in  the  city  of  New  York,  studying 
such  works  of  art  as  were  within  his  reach,  haunting  the 
cool,  quiet  libraries,  and  visiting  the  hospitals,  giving  to 
the  last,  as  a  medical  student,  the  most  of  his  time.  He 
found  himself  more  lonely  and  isolated  among  the  num- 
berless strange  faces  than  he  had  been  in  the  northern 
forests.  He  also  went  to  his  native  city  for  the  purpose 
of  visiting  Dr.  Marks,  and  as  the  family  mansion  was 
closed,  took  a  room  at  the  hotel.  His  old  acquaintances 
stood  far  aloof  at  tirst,  but  when  Dr.  Marks  carried  him 
off  with  friendly  violence  to  the  parsonage,  and  kept  him 
there  as  a  welcome  guest,  those  who  had  known  him  or 
his  family  concluded  that  they  could  shake  hands  with 
him,  and  many  took  pains  to  do  so,  and  to  congratulate 
him  on  the  course  he  was  taking.  Dr.  Marks'  parsonage 
was  emphatically  the  Interpreter's  house  to  him,  and 
after  a  brief  visit  he  returned  to  New  York  more  encour- 
aged with  the  hope  that  he  would  eventually  retrieve  the 
past  than  ever  he  had  been  before. 

But  events  now  occurred  which  promised  to  speedily 
blot  out  all  possibility  of  an  earthly  future.  In  answer  to 
his  letter  describing  his  visit  to  Dr.  Marks,  he  received 
from  Mrs.  Arnot  a  brief  note,  saying  that  the  warm 
weather  had  afifected  her  very  unfavorably,  and  that  she 
was  quite  ill  and  had  been  losing  strength  for  some  weeks. 
On  this  ground  he  must  pardon  her  brief  reply.  Her 
closing  words  were,  "  Persevere,  Egbert.  In  a  few  years 
400 


A   KNIGHTLY  DEED.  401 

more  the  best  homes  in  the  land  will  be  open  to  you,  and 
you  can  choose  your  society  from  those  who  are  honor- 
able here  and  will  be  honored  hereafter." 

There  were  marks  of  feebleijess  in  the  handwriting,  and 
Haldane's  anxiety  was  so  strongly  aroused  in  behalf  of 
his  friend  that  he  returned  to  Hillaton  at  once,  hoping,  how- 
ever, that  since  the  heats  of  August  were  nearly  over,  the 
bracing  breath  of  autumn  would  bring  renewed  strength. 

After  being  announced  he  was  shown  directly  up  to 
Mrs.  Arnot's  private  parlor,  and  he  found  himself  where, 
years  before,  he  had  first  met  his  friend.  The  memory 
of  the  bright,  vivacious  lady  who  had  then  entertained 
him  with  a  delicate  little  lunch,  while  she  suggested  how 
he  might  make  his  earliest  venture  out  into  the  world 
successful,  flashed  into  his  mind,  with  thronging  thoughts 
of  all  that  had  since  occurred  ;  but  now  he  was  pained 
to  see  that  his  friend  reclined  feebly  on  her  lounge,  and 
held  out  her  hand  without  rising. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come,"  she  said  with  quiet 
emphasis,  "for  your  sympathy  will  be  welcome,  although, 
like  others,  you  can  do  nothing  for  us  in  our  trouble." 

"  Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  deep  distress, 
•"  you  are  not  seriously  ill  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  that  is  not  it.  I'm  better,  or 
will  be  soon,  I  think.  Laura,  dear,  light  the  gas,  please, 
and  Egbert  can  read  the  telegrams  for  himself.  You 
once  met  my  sister,  Mrs.  Poland,  who  resided  in  the 
South,  I  think." 

"  Yes,  I  remember  her  very  well.  There  was  something 
about  her  face  that  haunted  me  for  months  afterward." 

"  Amy  was  once  very  beautiful,  but  ill-health  has 
greatly  changed  her." 

In  the  dusk  of  the  evening  Haldane  had  not  seen 
Laura  and  Mr.  Beaumont,  as  he  entered,  and  he  now 
greeted  them  with  a  quiet  bow  ;  but  Laura  came  and 
gave  him  her  hand,  saying. 


402   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  We  did  not  expect  you  to  return  so  soon,  Mr.  Hal- 
dane." 

"  After  hearing  that  Mrs.  Arnot  was  ill  I  could  not  rest 
till  I  had  seen  her,  and  I  received  her  note  only  this 
morning." 

He  now  saw  that  both  Laura's  eyes  and  Mrs.  Arnot's 
were  red  with  weeping. 

The  latter,  in  answer  to  hfs  questioning,  troubled  face, 
said:  "The  yellow  fever  has  broken  out  in  the  city 
where  my  sister  resides.  Her  husband,  Mr.  Poland,  has 
very  important  business  interests  there,  which  he  could 
not  drop  instantly.  She  would  not  leave  him,  and  Amy, 
her  daughter,  would  not  leave  her  mother.  Indeed,  be- 
fore they  were  aware  of  their  danger  the  disease  had  be- 
come epidemic,  and  Mr.  Poland  was  stricken  down.  The 
first  telegram  is  from  my  sister,  and  states  this  fact ;  the 
second  there  is  from  my  niece,  and  it  breaks  my  heart  ta 
read  it,"  and  she  handed  it  to  him  and  he  read  as  follows  : 

"  The  worst  has  happened.  Father  very  low.  Doctor 
gives  little  hope.  I  almost  fear  for  mother's  mind.  The 
city  in  panic — our  help  leaving — medical  attendance  un- 
certain. It  looks  as  if  I  should  be  left  alone,  and  I  help- 
less.    What  shall  I  do?" 

"Was  there  ever  a  more  pathetic  cry  of  distress  ? '* 
said  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  another  burst  of  grief.  "Oh  that 
I  were  strong  and  well,  and  I  would  fly  to  them  at  once." 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  do  any  good  by  going?  "  asked 
Laura,  stepping  forward  eagerly,  but  very  pale. 

"  No,"  interposed  Mr.  Beaumont,  with  sharp  em- 
phasis ;  "  you  would  only  become  an  additional  burden, 
and  add  to  the  horrors  of  the  situation." 

"  Mr.  Beaumont  is  right  ;  but  you  are  a  noble  woman 
even  to  think  of  such  a  thing,"  said  Haldane,  and  he 
gave  her  a  look  of  such  strong  feeling  and  admiration,, 
that  a  little  color  came  into  her  white  cheeks. 

"  She  does  not  realize  what  she  is  saying,"  added  Mr- 


A   KNIGHTLY  DEED.  403 

Beaumont.  "  It  would  be  certain  death  for  an  unac- 
climated  Northener  to  go  down  there  now." 

Laura  grew  very  pale  again.  She  had  realized  w^hat 
she  was  saying,  and  was  capable  of  the  sacrifice  ;  but  the 
man  who  had  recognized  and  appreciated  her  heroism 
was  not  the  one  who  held  her  plighted  troth. 

Paying  no  heed  to  Beaumont's  last  remark,  Haldane 
snatched  up  the  daily  paper  that  lay  upon  the  table,  and 
turned  hastily  to  a  certain  place  for  a  moment,  then, 
looking  at  his  watch,  exclaimed  eagerly  : 

"  I  can  do  it  if  not  a  moment  is  wasted.  The  express 
train  for  the  South  leaves  in  an  hour,  and  it  connects 
with  all  the  through  lines.  Miss  Romeyn,  please  write 
for  me,  on  your  card,  an  introduction  to  your  cousin, 
Miss  Poland,  and  I  will  present  it,  with  the  offer  of  my 
assistance,  at  the  earliest  possible  moment." 

"  Egbert,  no  !  "  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  strong  emphasis, 
and  rising  from  her  couch,  though  so  ill  and  feeble.  "  I 
will  not  permit  you  to  sacrifice  your  Hfe  for  comparative 
strangers." 

He  turned  and  took  her  hand  in  both  of  his,  and  said, 

"Mrs.  Arnot,  there  is  no  time  for  remonstrance,  and 
it  is  useless.  I  am  going,  and  no  one  shall  prevent  me." 
Then  he  added,  in  tones  and  with  a  look  of  affection 
which  she  never  forgot,  "  Deeply  as  I  regret  this  sad 
emergency,  I  would  not,  for  ten  times  the  value  of  my 
life,  lose  the  opportunity  it  gives  me.  I  can  now  show 
you  a  small  part  -of  my  gratitude  by  serving  those  you 
love.  Besides,  as  you  say,  that  telegram  is  such  a  pa- 
thetic cry  of  distress  that  were  you  all  strangers,  I  would 
obey  its  unconscious  command.     But  haste,  the  card  !  " 

"  Egbert,  you  are  excited  ;  you  do  not  reahze  what  you 
are  saying!  "  cried  the  agitated  lady. 

He  looked  at  her  steadily  for  a  moment,  and  then  said, 
in  a  tone  so  quiet  and  firm  that  it  ended  all  remonstrance, 
*'  I  realize  fully  what  I  am  doing,  and  it  is  my  right  to 


404   KNIGUT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

decide  upon  my  own  action.  To  you,  at  least,  I  never 
broke  my  word,  and  I  assure  you  that  I  will  go.  Miss 
Romeyn,  will  you  oblige  me  by  instantly  writing  that 
card  ?     Your  aunt  is  not  able  to  write  it." 

His  manner  was  so  authoritative  that  Laura  wrote  with 
a  trembling  hand  : 

The  bearer  is  a  very  dear  friend  of  aunt's.  How  brave  and 
noble  a  man  he  is  you  can  learn  from  the  fact  that  he  comes  to 
your  aid  now.     In  deepest  sympathy  and  love,  Laura. 

"  Good-by,  my  dear,  kind  friend,"  said  Haldane 
cheerily  to  Mrs.  Arnot  while  Laura  was  writing  ;  "  you 
overrate  the  danger.  I  feel  that  I  shall  return  again,  and 
if  I  do  not,  there  are  many  worse  evils  than  dying." 

"Your  mother,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  with  a  low  sob. 

"  I  shall  write  to  her  a  long  letter  on  the  way  and  ex- 
plain everything." 

"  She  will  feel  that  it  never  can  be  explained." 

"  I  cannot  help  it,"  replied  the  young  man  resolutely  ; 
"  I  know  that  I  am  doing  right,  or  my  conscience  is  of 
no  use  to  me  whatever." 

Mrs.  Arnot  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  as  if  she 
were  his  mother,  and  said  in  low,  broken  tones  : 

"God  bless  you,  and  go  with  you,  my  true  knight; 
nay,  let  me  call  you  my  own  dear  son  this  once.  I  will 
thank  you  in  heaven  for  all  this,  if  not  here,"  and  then 
she  kissed  him  again  and  again. 

"You  have  now  repaid  me  a  thousand-fold,"  he  fal- 
tered and  then  broke  away. 

"  Mr.  Haldane,"  said  Laura  tearfully,  as  he  turned  to 
her,  "Cousin  Amy  and  I  have  been  the  closest  friends 
from  childhood,  and  I  cannot  tell  you  how  deeply  I 
appreciate  your  going  to  her  aid.  I  could  not  expect  a 
brother  to  take  such  a  risk." 

Haldane  felt  that  his  present  chance  to  look  into 
Laura's  face  might  be  his  last,  and  again,  before  he  was 


A   KNIGHTLY  DEED.  40. 

aware,  he  let  his  eyes  reveal  all  his  heart.  She  saw  as 
if  written  in  them,  "A  brother  might  not  be  willing  to 
take  the  risk,  but  I  am." 

"  Do  I  then  render  you  a  special  service?"  he  asked, 
in  a  low  tone. 

"  You  could  not  render  me  a  greater  one." 

"  Why,  this  is  better  than  I  thought,"  he  said.  "  How 
fortunate  I  was  in  coming  this  evening  !  There,  please 
do  not  look  so  distressed.  A  soldier  takes  such  risks  as 
these  every  day,  and  never  thinks  of  them.  You  have 
before  you  a  happy  life.  Miss  Laura,  and  I  am  very,  very 
glad.  Good  courage,  and  good-by,"  and  his  manner 
now  was  frank,  cheerful,  and  brotherly. 

She  partly  obeyed  an  impulse  to  speak,  but  checked 
it,  and  tremblingly  bent  her  head  ;  but  the  pressure  she 
gave  his  hand  meant  more  than  he  or  even  she  herself 
understood  at  the  time. 

"Good-by,  Mr.  Beaumont,"  he  said,  hurriedly.  "I 
need  not  wish  you  happiness,  since  you  already  possess 
it  ;  "  and  he  hastened  from  the  room  and  the  house  with- 
out once  looking  back. 

A  moment  later  they  heard  his  rapid  resolute  tread 
echoing  from  the  stony  pavement,  but  it  speedily  died 
away. 

Laura  listened  breathlessly  at  the  window  until  the 
faintest  sound  ceased.  She  had  had  her  wish.  She  had 
seen  a  man  who  was  good  enough  and  brave  enough  to 
face  any  danger  to  which  he  felt  impelled  by  a  chivalric 
sense  of  duty.  She  had  seen  a  man  depart  upon  as 
knightly  an  expedition  as  any  of  which  she  had  ever 
read,  but  it  was  not  her  knight. 

"  This  young  Haldane  is  a  brave  fellow,  and  I  had  no 
idea  that  there  was  so  much  of  him,"  remarked  Mr. 
Beaumont  in  his  quiet  and  refined  tones.  "  Really,  take 
it  all  together,  this  has  been  a  scene  worthy  of  the  brush 
of  a  great  painter." 


406   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  O  Auguste  !  "  exclaimed  Laura  ;  "  how  can  you  look 
only  on  the  esthetic  side  of  such  a  scene?"  And  she 
threw  herself  into  a  low  chair  and  sobbed  as  if  her  heart 
would  break. 

Mr.  Beaumont  was  much  perplexed,  for  he  found  that 
all  of  his  elegant  platitudes  were  powerless  to  either  com- 
fort or  soothe  her. 

"Leave  her  with  me,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot.  "The  ex- 
citements of  the  day  have  been  too  much  for  her.  She 
will  be  better  to-morrow." 

Mr.  Beaumont  was  glad  to  obey.  He  had  been  ac- 
customed from  childhood  to  leave  all  disagreeable  duties 
to  others,  and  he  thought  that  Laura  had  become  a  trifle 
hysterical.  "A  little  lavender  and  sleep  is  all  that  she 
requires,"  he  remarked  to  himself  as  he  walked  home  in 
the  starlight.  "  But,  by  Jove  !  she  is  more  lovely  in  tears 
than  in  smiles." 

That  he,  Auguste  Beaumont,  should  risk  the  loss  of  her 
and  all  his  other  possessions  by  exposing  his  precious 
person  to  a  loathsome  disease  did  not  enter  his  mind. 

"O  auntie,  auntie,  I  would  rather  have  gone  myself 
and  died,  than  feel  as  I  do  to-night,"  sobbed  Laura. 

"  '  Courage'  was  Egbert's  last  word  to  you,  Laura," 
said  Mrs.  Arnot,  "  and  courage  and  faith  must  be  our 
watchwords  now.  We  must  act,  too,  and  at  once. 
Please  tell  your  uncle  I  wish  a  draft  for  five  hundred  dol- 
lars immediately,  and  explain  why.  Then  inclose  it  in  a 
note  to  Egbert,  and  see  that  Michael  puts  it  in  his  hands 
at  the  depot.  Write  to  Egbert  not  to  spare  money  where 
it  may  be  of  any  use,  or  can  secure  any  comfort.  We 
cannot  tell  how  your  Aunt  Amy  is  situated,  and  money  is 
always  useful.  We  must  telegraph  to  your  Cousin  Amy 
that  a  friend  is  coming.  Let  us  realize  what  courage, 
prayer,  and  faith  can  accomplish.  Action  will  do  you 
good,  LaiH'a." 

The  girl  sprang  to  her  feet  and  carried  out  her  aunt's 


A   KNIGHTLY  DEED.  40r 

wishes  with  precision.     That  was  the  kind  of  "lavender'* 
which  her  nature  required. 

After  writing  all  that  her  aunt  dictated,  she  added  on. 
her  own  part : 

If  the  knowledge  that  I  honor  you  above  other  men  can  sus- 
tain you,  rest  assured  that  this  is  true  ;  if  my  sympathy  and  con- 
stant remembrance  can  lighten  your  burdens,  know  that  you 
and  those  you  serve  will  rarely  be  absent  from  my  thoughts. 
You  make  light  of  your  heroic  act.  To  me  it  is  a  revelation. 
I  did  not  know  that  men  could  be  so  strong  and  noble  in  our 
day.  Whether  such  words  are  right  or  conventional,  I  have 
not  even  thought.  My  heart  is  full  and  I  must  speak  them. 
That  God  may  bless  you,  aid  you  in  serving  those  I  love  so 
dearly,  and  return  you  in  safety,  will  be  my  constant  prayer. 

Auntie  falters  out  one  more  message,  "  Tell  Egbert  that  sister 
Amy's  household  have  not  our  faith;  suggest  it,  teach  it  if  you. 
can."     Farewell,  truest  of  friends.  Laura  Romeyn. 

Mr.  Growther  was  asleep  in  his  chair  when  Haldane- 
entered,  and  he  stole  by  him  and  made  preparations  for 
departure  with  silent  celerity.  Then,  valise  in  hand,  he 
touched  his  old  friend,  who  started  up,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  Lord  a' massy,  where  did  you  come  from,  and  where 
yer  goin'  ?  You  look  kinder  sperit  like.  I  say,  am  I 
awake  ?  I  was  dreamin'  you  was  startin'  off  to  kill 
somebody." 

"  Dreams  go  by  contraries.  It  may  be  a  long  time 
before  we  meet  again.  But  we  shall  have  many  a  good 
talk  over  old  times,  if  not  here,  why,  in  the  better  home, 
for  your  '  peaked-faced  little  chap  '  will  surely  lead  you 
there,"  and  he  explained  all  in  a  few  brief  sentences. 
"  And  now,  my  kind,  true  friend,  good-by.  I  thank  you 
from  my  heart  for  the  shelter  you  have  given  me,  and  for 
your  stanch  friendship  when  friends  were  so  few.  You 
have  done  all  that  you  could  to  make  a  man  of  me,  and 
now  that  you  won't  have  time  to  quarrel  with  me  about 
it,  I  tell  you  to  your  face  that  you  are  not  a  mean  man. 
There  are  few  larger-hearted,  larger-souled  men  in  this; 


408  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

city,"  and  before  the  bewildered  old  gentleman  could 
reply,  he  was  gone. 

"Lord  a'  massy,  Lord  a'  massy,"  groaned  Mr. 
Growther,  "  the  bottom  is  jest  fallin'  out  o'  everything. 
If  he  dies  with  the  yellow-jack  I'll  git  to  cussin'  as  bad 
as  ever." 

Haldane  found  Mrs.  Arnot's  coachman  at  the  depot 
with  the  letter  Laura  had  written.  As  he  read  it  his  face 
flushed  with  the  deepest  pleasure.  Having  a  few  mo- 
ments to  spare,  he  penciled  hastily  : 

Miss  Romeyn  : — I  have  received  from  Michael  the  letter 
with  the  draft.  Say  to  Mrs.  Arnot  I  shall  obey  both  the 
letter  and  spirit  of  her  instructions.  Let  me  add  for  myself  that 
my  best  hopes  are  more  than  fulfilled.  That  you,  who  know 
all  my  past,  could  write  such  words  seems  like  a  heavenly 
dream.  But  I  assure  you  that  you  overestimate  both  the  char- 
acter of  my  action  and  the  danger.  It  is  all  plain,  simple  duty, 
M'hich  hundreds  of  men  would  perform  as  a  matter  of  course. 
I  ask  but  one  favor,  please  look  after  Mr.  Growther.  He  is 
growing  old  and  feeble  ;  I  owe  him  so  much — Mrs.  Arnot  will 
tell  you.     Yours 

"  He  couldn't  write  a  word  more,  Miss,  the  train  was 
a  movin'  when  he  jumped  on,"  said  Michael  when  he 
delivered  the  note. 

But  that  final  word  had  for  Laura  no  conventional 
meaning.  She  had  long  known  that  Haldane  was,  in 
truth,  hers,  and  she  had  deeply  regretted  the  fact,  and 
would  at  any  time  have  willingly  broken  the  chain  that 
bound  him,  had  it  been  in  her  power.  Would  she  break 
it  to-night?  Yes,  unhesitatingly  ;  but  it  would  now  cost 
her  a  pain  to  do  so,  which,  at  first,  she  would  not  under- 
stand. On  that  stormy  July  evening  when  she  gave  Hal- 
dane a  little  private  concert  she  had  obtained  a  glimpse 
of  a  manhood  unknown  to  her  before,  and  it  was  full  of 
pleasing  suggestion.  To-night  that  same  manhood  which 
is  at  once  so  strong,  and  yet  so  unselfish  and  gentle,  had 
stood  out  before  her  distinct  and  luminous  in  the  light  of 


A   KNIGHTLY  DEED.  409 

a  knightly  deed,  and  she  saw  with  the  absoKiteness  of  ir- 
resistible conviction  that  such  a  manhood  was  above  and 
beyond  all  surface  pohsh,  all  mere  esthetic  culture,  all 
earthly  rank — that  it  was  something  that  belonged  tc^ 
God,  and  partook  of  the  eternity  of  His  greatness  and 
permanence. 

By  the  kindred  and  noble  possibihties  of  her  own 
womanly  nature,  she  was  of  necessity  deeply  interested 
in  such  a  man  having  once  recognized  him  ;  and  now  for 
weeks  she  must  think  of  him  as  consciously  serving  her 
in  the  most  knightly  way  and  at  the  hourly  risk  of  his 
life,  and  yet  hoping  for  no  greater  reward  than  her  es- 
teem and  respect.  While  she  knew  that  he  would  have 
gone  eagerly  for  her  aunt's  sake,  and  might  have  gone 
from  a  mere  sense  of  duty,  she  had  been  clearly  shown 
that  the  thought  of  serving  her  had  turned  his  dangerous 
task  into  a  privilege  and  a  joy.  Could  she  follow  such  a 
man  daily  and  hourly  with  her  thoughts,  could  she  in 
vivid  imagination  watch  his  self-sacrificing  efforts  to  min- 
ister to,  and  save  those  she  loved,  with  only  the  cool,  de- 
corous interest  that  Mr.  Beaumont  would  deem  proper  in 
the  woman  betrothed  to  himself?  The  future  must  an- 
swer this  question. 

When  Haldane  had  asked  for  a  ticket  to  the  southern 
city  to  which  he  was  destined,  the  agent  stared  at  him  a 
moment  and  said  : 

"  Don't  you  know  yellow  fever  is  epidemic  there?  " 

"Yes,"  replied  Haldane  with  such  cold  reserve  of 
manner  that  no  further  questions  were  asked  ;  but  the 
fact  that  he,  a  medical  student,  had  bought  a  ticket  for 
the  plague-stricken  city  was  stated  in  the  Courier  the 
following  morning.  His  old  friend  Mr.  Ivison  soon  in- 
formed himself  of  the  whole  affair,  and  in  a  glowing 
letter  of  eulogy  made  it  impossible  for  any  one  to  charge 
that  Mrs.  Arnot  had  asked  the  young  man  to  go  to  the 
aid  of  her  relatives  at  such  tremendous  personal  risk. 


410  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

Indeed  it  was  clearly  stated,  with  the  unimpeachable  Mr, 
Beaumont  as  authority,  that  she  had  entreated  him  not 
to  go,  and  had  not  the  slightest  expectation  of  his  going 
iintil  he  surprised  her  by  his  unalterable  decision. 

After  reading  and  talking  over  this  letter,  sustained  as 
it  had  been  by  years  of  straightforward  duty,  even  good 
society  concluded  that  it  could  socially  recognize  and  re- 
ceive this  man  ;  and  yet,  as  the  old  lady  had  remarked, 
there  was  still  an  excellent  prospect  that  he  would  enter 
lieaven  before  he  found  a  welcome  to  the  exclusive  circles 
of  Hillaton. 


CHAPTER  L. 

"O    DREADED    DEATH  !  " 

Haldane  found  time  in  the  enforced  pauses  of  his 
journey  to  write  a  long  and  affectionate  letter  to  his- 
mother,  explaining  all,  and  asking  her  forgiveness  again, 
as  he  often  had  before.  He  also  wrote  to  Mrs.  Arnot  a 
cheerful  note,  in  which  he  tried  to  put  his  course  in  the 
most  ordinary  and  matter-of-fact  light  possible,  saying: 
that  as  a  medical  student  it  was  the  most  natural  thing: 
in  the  world  for  him  to  do. 

As  he  approached  the  infected  city  he  had  the  train 
chiefly  to  himself,  and  he  saw  that  the  outgoing  trains- 
were  full,  and  when  at  last  he  walked  its  streets  it  re- 
minded him  of  a  household  of  which  some  member  is 
very  ill,  or  dead,  and  the  few  who  were  moving  about 
walked  as  if  under  a  sad  constraint  and  gloom.  On 
most  faces  were  seen  evidences  of  anxiety  and  trouble, 
while  a  few  were  reckless. 

Having  obtained  a  carriage,  he  was  driven  to  Mr.  Po- 
land's residence  in  a  suburb.  He  dismissed  the  carriage- 
at  the  gate,  preferring  to  quietly  announce  himself.  The- 
sultry  day  was  drawing  to  a  close  as  he  walked  up  the 
graveled  drive  that  led  to  the  house.  Not  even  the 
faintest  zephyr  stirred  the  luxuriant  tropical  foliage  that 
here  and  there  shadowed  his  path,  and  yet  the  stillness 
and  quiet  of  nature  did  not  suggest  peace  and  repose  so 
much  as  it  did  death.  The  motionless  air,  heavily  laden 
with  a  certain  dead  sweetness  of  flowers  from  the  neigh- 
boring garden,  might  well  bring  to  mind  the  breathless 
silence  and  the  heavy   atmosphere   of  the  chamber  in 

411 


412   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

which  the  hfeless  form  and  the  fading  funeral  wreath  are 
perishing  together. 

So  oppressed  was  Haldane  he  found  himself  walking 
softly  and  mounting  the  steps  of  the  piazza  with  a  silent 
tread,  as  if  he  were  in  truth  approaching  the  majesty  of 
death.  Before  he  could  ring  the  bell  there  came  from 
the  parlor  a  low,  sad  prelude,  played  on  a  small  reed 
organ  that  had  been  built  in  the  room,  and  then  a  con- 
tralto voice  of  peculiar  sweetness  sang  the  following 
words  with  such  depth  of  feeling  that  one  felt  that  they 
revealed  the  innermost  emotion  of  the  heart  : 

O  priceless  life  !  warm,  throbbing  life, 
With  thought  and  love  and  passion  rife, 

I  cling  to  thee. 
Thou  art  an  isle  in  the  ocean  wide; 
Thou  are  a  barque  above  the  tide ; 
How  vague  and  void  is  all  beside ! 

I  cling  to  thee. 

O  dreaded  death !  cold,  pallid  death 
Despair  is  in  thy  icy  breath ; 

I  shrink  from  thee. 
What  victims  wilt  thou  next  enroll? 
Thou  hast  a  terror  for  my  soul 
Which  will  nor  reason  can  control ; 

I  shrink  from  thee. 

Then  followed  a  sound  that  was  like  a  low  sob.  This 
surely  was  Amy,  Laura's  cousin-friend,  and  already  she 
had  won  the  whole  sympathy  of  his  heart. 

After  ringing  the  bell  he  heard  her  step,  and  then  she 
paused,  as  he  rightly  surmised,  to  wipe  away  the  thickly- 
falling  tears.  He  was  almost  startled  when  she  appeared 
before  him,  for  the  maiden  had  inherited  the  peculiar 
and  striking  beauty  of  her  mother.  Sorrow  and  watch- 
ing had  brought  unusual  pallor  to  her  cheeks  ;  but  her 
€yes  were  so  large,  so  dark  and  intense,  that  they  sug- 
gested spirit  rather  than  flesh  and  blood. 


"0  DREADED  DEATH!''  413 

"  I  think  that  this  is  Miss  Poland,"  commenced  Hal- 
dane  in  a  manner  that  was  marked  by  both  sympathy 
and  respect,  and  he  was  about  to  hand  her  his  card  of 
introduction,  when  she  stepped  eagerly  forward  and 
took  his  hand,  saying  :  "  You  are  Mr.  Haldane.  I  know 
it  at  a  glance." 

"  Yes,  and  wholly  at  your  service." 

Sdll  retaining  his  hand,  she  looked  for  a  second  into 
his  face,  as  if  she  would  read  his  soul  and  gauge  the 
compass  of  his  nature  ;  so  intent  and  penetrating  was 
her  gaze,  that  Haldane  felt  that  if  there  had  been  any 
wavering  or  weakness  on  his  part  she  would  have  known 
it  as  truly  as  himself. 

Her  face  suddenly  lighted  up  with  gratitude  and 
friendliness,  and  she  said,  earnestly  : 

"  I  do  thank  you  for  coming.  I  had  purposed  asking 
you  not  to  take  so  great  a  risk  for  us,  but  to  return  ;  for, 
to  be  frank  with  you,  our  physician  has  told  me  that  your 
risk  is  terribly  great  ;  but  I  see  that  you  are  one  that 
would  not  turn  back." 

"You  are  right.  Miss  Poland."  Then  he  added,  with 
a  frank  smile,  "There  is  nothing  terrible  to  me  in  the 
risk  you  speak  of.  I  honestly  feel  it  a  privilege  to  come 
to  your  aid  and  I  have  but  one  request  to  make  :  that 
you  will  let  me  serve  you  in  any  way  and  every  way  pos- 
sible. By  any  hesitancy  and  undue  delicacy  in  this  re- 
spect you  will  greatly  pain  me." 

"  Oh  !  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  low  and  almost  passionate 
tone,  "  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,  for  I  was  almost 
desperate." 

"  Your  father  ?  "  asked  Haldane  very  gravely. 

"  He  is  more  quiet,  and  I  try  to  think  he  is  better,  but 
doctor  won't  say  that  he  is.     Ah,  there  he  is  coming  now."" 

A  carriage  drove  rapidly  to  the  door,  and  the  physi- 
cian sprang  up  the  steps  as  if  the  hours  were  short  for 
the  increasing  pressure  of  his  work. 


•414   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  Miss  Amy,  why  are  you  here  yet  ?  I  hoped  that  you 
and  your  httle  sister  were  on  your  way  to  the  mountains," 
he  said,  taking  her  hand. 

"  Please  do  not  speak  of  it  again,"  she  rephed.  "  I 
•cannot  leave  father  and  mother,  and  Bertha,  you  know, 
is  too  young  and  nervous  a  child  to  be  forced  to  go  away 
•alone.  We  must  all  remain  together,  and  hope  the  best 
from  your  skill." 

*^God  knows  I'm  doing  all  in  my  power  to  save  my 
dear  old  friend  Poland,"  said  the  physician  huskily,  and 
then  he  shook  his  head  as  if  he  had  little  hope.  "  How 
is  he  now  ?  ' ' 

"  Better,  I  think.  Dr.  Orton,  this  is  the  friend  of 
whom  I  spoke,  Mr.  Haldane." 

"You  have  always  lived  at  the  North?"  asked  the 
physician,  looking  the  young  man  over  with  a  quick 
glance. 

>'  Yes,  sir. 

"  Do  you  realize  the  probable  consequences  of  this  ex- 
posure to  one  not  acchmated  1  ' ' 

"  Dr.  Orton,  I  am  a  medical  student,  and  I  have  come 
to  do  my  duty,  which  here  will  be  to  carry  out  strictly 
your  directions.  I  have  only  one  deep  cause  for  anxiety, 
and  that  is  that  I  may  be  taken  with  the  disease  before  I 
can  be  of  much  use.     So  please  give  me  work  at  once." 

"Give  me  your  hand,  old  fellow.  You  do  our  profes- 
sion credit,  if  not  fully  fledged.  You  are  right,  we  must 
all  do  what  we  can  while  we  can,  for  the  Lord  only  knows 
how  many  hours  are  left  to  any  of  us.  But  Amy,  my 
dear,  it  makes  me  feel  hke  praying  and  swearing  in  the 
same  breath  to  find  you  still  in  this  infernal  city.  A 
friend  promised  to  call  this  morning  and  take  you  and 
your  sister  away." 

"  We  cannot  go." 

"  Well,  well,  as  long  as  the  old  doctor  is  above  ground 
^e  will  try  to  take  care  of  you  ;  and  this  young  gentle- 


''0  DREADED  DEATH!''  415 

man  can  be  invaluable  if  he  can  hold  on  for  a  while  be- 
fore following  too  general  a  fashion.  Come,  sir,  I  will 
install  you  as  nurse  at  once." 

"  Doctor,  Doctor  Orton,  what  have  you  brought  for 
me?  "  cried  a  childish  voice,  and  a  little  girl,  fair  and 
blue-eyed,  came  fluttering  down  the  stairs,  intercepting 
them  on  the  way  to  Mr.  Poland's  room. 

"Ah!  there's  my  good  httle  fairy,"  said  the  kind- 
hearted  man,  taking  her  in  his  arms  and  kissing  her. 
*'Look  in  my  pockets,  little  one,  and  see  what  you  can 
find." 

With  delightful  unconsciousness  of  the  shadows 
around  her  the  child  fumbled  in  his  pockets  and  soon 
pulled  out  a  picture-book. 

"  No  candy  yet?  "   she  exclaimed  in  disappointment. 

"  No  candy  at  all.  Bertha,  nothing  but  good  plain  food 
till  next  winter.  You  make  sure  of  this,  I  suppose,"  he 
said  significantly  to  the  elder  sister. 

"  Yes,  as  far  as  possible.     I  will  wait  for  you  here." 

They  ascended  to  a  large  airy  room  on  the  second 
floor.  Even  to  Haldane,  Mr.  Poland  appeared  far  down 
in  the  dark  valley  ;  but  he  was  in  that  quiet  and  con- 
scious state  which  follows  the  first  stage  of  the  fever, 
which  in  his  case,  owing  to  his  vigorous  frame,  had  been 
unusually  prolonged. 

Without  a  word  the  doctor  felt  the  sick  man's  pulse, 
who  bent  upon  him  his  questioning  eyes.  From  the 
farther  side  of  the  bed,  Mrs.  Poland,  sitting  feebly  in  her 
chair,  also  fixed  upon  the  physician  the  same  intense 
searching  gaze  that  Haldane  had  sustained  from  the 
daughter.  Dr.  Orton  looked  for  a  moment  into  her  pale, 
thin  face,  which  might  have  been  taken  as  a  model  for 
agonized  anxiety,  and  then  looked  away  again,  for  he 
could  not  endure  its  expression. 

"  Orton,  tell  me  the  truth  ;  no  wincing  noiv,"  said  Mr. 
Poland  in  low,  thick  utterance. 


416   KNIGHT  OF  TEE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  My  dear  old  friend,  it  cuts  me  to  the  heart  to  say  it, 
but  if  you  have  anything  special  that  you  would  like  to 
say  to  your  family  I  think  you  had  better  say  it  now." 

"  Then  I  am  going  to  die,"  said  the  man  and  both  his 
tone  and  face  were  full  of  awe  ;  while  poor  Mrs.  Poland 
looked  as  if  in  extremis  herself. 

"This  return  and  rapid  rise  of  fever  at  this  late  day 
looks  very  bad,"  said  the  physician,  gloomily,  "  and  you 
insisted  on  knowing  the  truth." 

"  You  ever  were  an  honest  friend,  Orton  ;  I  know  you 
have  done  your  best  for  me,  and,  although  w^orked  to 
death,  have  come  to  see  me  often.  I  leave  my  family  in 
your  charge.  God  grant  I  may  be  the  only  one  to  suffer. 
May  I  see  the  children?  " 

"  Yes,  a  few  moments  ;  but  I  do  not  wish  them  to  be 
in  this  room  long  ?  " 

"  Don't  go  just  yet,  Orton.  I — to  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
feel  that  dying  is  rather  serious  business,  and  you  and  I 
have  always  taken  life  somewhat  as  a  good  joke.  Call 
the  girls." 

They  came  and  stood  by  their  mother.  Amy  was  be- 
yond tears,  but  little  Bertha  could  not  understand  it,  and 
with  difficulty  could  be  kept  from  clambering  upon  the 
bed  to  her  father. 

"  Amy's  naughty,  she  keeps  me  away  from  you,  papa. 
I've  been  wanting  to  see  you  all  day,  and  Amy  won't 
let  me." 

The  doctor  and  Haldane  retired  to  the  hallway. 

There  was  an  unutterable  look  in  the  dying  man's  eyes 
as  he  fixed  them  on  the  little  group. 

"  How  can  I  leave  you?  how  can  I  leave  you?"  he 
groaned. 

At  this  the  child  began  to  cry,  and  again  struggled  to 
reach  her  father.  She  was  evidently  his  idol,  and  he 
prayed,  "  Wherever  I  go — whatever  becomes  of  me, 
God  grant  I  may  see  that  child  again." 


"0  DREADED  DEATH!''  417 

*'  Mother,"  he  said  (he  always  called  his  wife  by  that 
endearing  name),  "  I'm  sure  you  are  mistaken.  I  want 
to  see  you  all  again  with  such  intense  longing  that  I  feel 
I  shall.  This  life  can't  be  all.  My  heart  revolts  at  it. 
It's  fiendish  cruelty  to  tear  asunder  forever  those  who 
love  as  we  do.  As  I  told  you  before,  I'm  going  to  take 
my  chances  with  the  publican.  Oh  !  that  some  one  could 
make  a  prayer  !     Orton  !  "  he  called  feebly. 

The  doctor  entered,  leaving  the  door  open. 

"  Couldn't  you  offer  a  short  prayer?  You  may  think 
it  unmanly  in  me,  but  I  am  in  sore  straits,  and  I  want  to 
see  these  loved  ones  again." 

"  Haldane,"  cried  Dr.  Orton,  "here,  offer  a  prayer,  for 
God's  sake,  if  you  can.     I  feel  as  if  I  were  choking." 

Without  any  hesitancy  or  mannerism  the  Chrisdan  man 
knelt  at  Mr.  Poland's  bedside  and  offered  as  simple  and 
natural  a  prayer  as  he  would  have  spoken  to  the  Divine 
Man  in  person  had  he  gone  to  Him  in  Judea,  centuries 
ago,  in  behalf  of  a  friend.  His  faith  was  so  absolute 
that  he  that  was  petitioned  became  a  living  presence  to 
those  who  listened. 

"  God  bless  you,  whoever  you  are,"  said  the  sick  man. 
*'  Oh,  that  does  me  good  !  It's  less  dark.  It  seems  to 
me  that  I've  got  hold  of  a  hand  that  can  sustain  me." 

"  Bress  de  Lord!  "  ejaculated  an  old  negress  who  sat 
in  a  distant  corner. 

"  I  install  this  young  man  as  your  nurse  to-night,"  said 
Dr.  Orton,  huskily  ;  "  I'll  be  here  in  the  morning. 
Come,  little  girls,  go  now." 

"We  shall  meet  again,  Amy  ;  we  shall  meet  again, 
Bertie,  darling  ;  remember  papa  said  it  and  believed  it." 

Haldane  saw  a  strange  blending  of  love  and  terror  in 
Amy's  eyes  as  she  led  her  little  and  bewildered  sister 
from  the  room. 

Dr.  Orton  took  him  to  one  side  and  rapidly  gave  his  di- 
rections.    "  His  pulse,"  he  said,  "  indicates  that  he  may 


418   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

be  violent  during  the  night ;  if  so,  induce  Mrs.  Poland  to 
retire,  if  possible.  I  doubt  if  he  lives  till  morning."  He 
then  told  Haldane  of  such  precautions  as  he  should  take 
for  his  own  safety,  and  departed. 

The  horrors  of  that  night  cannot  be  portrayed.  As 
the  fever  rose  higher  and  higher,  all  evidence  of  the  kind, 
loving  husband  and  father  perished,  and  there  remained 
only  a  disease-tortured  body.  The  awful  black  vomit 
soon  set  in.  The  strong  physical  nature  in  its  dying 
throes  taxed  Haldane' s  powerful  strength  to  the  utmost,, 
and  only  by  constant  effort  and  main  force  could  he  keep 
the  sufferer  in  his  bed.  Mrs.  Poland  and  the  old  colored 
woman  who  assisted  her  would  have  been  totally  un- 
equal to  the  occasion.  Indeed,  the  wife  was  simply  ap- 
palled and  overwhelmed  with  grief  and  horror,  for  the 
poor  man,  unconscious  of  all  save  pain,  and  in  accord- 
ance with  a  common  phase  of  the  disease,  filled  the  night 
with  unearthly  cries  and  shrieks.  But  before  the  morn- 
ing dawned,  instead  of  tossing  and  delirium  there  was 
the  calm  serenity  of  death. 

As  Haldane  composed  the  form  for  its  last  sleep  he  said  : 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Poland,  your  faithful  watch  is  ended, 
your  husband  suffers  no  more  ;  now,  surely  you  will 
yield  to  my  entreaty  and  go  to  your  room.  I  will  see 
that  everything  is  properly  attended  to." 

The  poor  woman  was  bending  over  her  husband's 
ashes,  almost  as  motionless  as  they,  and  her  answer  was 
a  low  cry  as  she  fell  across  his  body  in  a  swoon. 

Haldane  lifted  her  gently  up,  and  carried  her  from  the 
room. 

Crouching  at  the  door  of  the  death -chamber,  her  eyes 
dilated  with  horror,  he  found  poor  Amy. 

"  Is  mother  dead  also  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  No,  Miss  Amy.  She  only  needs  your  care  to  revive 
speedily.  Please  lead  the  way  to  your  mother's  apart' 
ment." 


"0  DREADED  DEATH!''  419 

•'I  think  there  is  a  God,  and  that  He  sent  you,"  she 
whispered. 

"  You  are  right,"  he  rephed,  in  the  natural  hearty  tone 
which  is  so  potent  in  reassuring  the  terror-stricken. 
*'  Courage,  Miss  Amy  ;  all  will  be  well  at  last.  Now  let 
me  help  you  like  a  brother,  and  when  your  moilier  re- 
vives, I  will  give  her  something  to  make  her  sleep  ;  I 
then  wish  you  to  sleep  also." 

The  poor  lady  revived  after  a  time,  and  tried  to  rise 
that  she  might  return  to  her  husband's  room,  but  fell 
back  in  utter  weakness. 

"  Mrs.  Poland,"  said  Haldane  gently,  "  you  can  do  no 
good  there.     You  must  live  for  your  children  now." 

She  soon  was  sleeping  under  the  influence  of  an  opiate. 

"  Will  you  rest,  too,  Miss  Amy  ?  "  asked  Haldane. 

"I  will  try,"  she  faltered;  but  her  large,  dark  eyes 
looked  as  if  they  would  never  close  again. 

Returning  to  the  room  over  which  so  deep  a  hush  had 
fallen,  Haldane  gave  a  few  directions  to  the  old  negress 
whom  he  left  in  charge,  and  then  sought  the  rest  he  so 
greatly  needed  himself. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

"O   PRICELESS    life!" 

When  Haldane  came  down  the  following  morning  he 
found  Bertha  playing  on  the  piazza  as  unconscious  of  the 
loss  of  her  father  as  the  birds  singing  among  the  trees 
of  their  master.  Amy  soon  joined  them,  and  Haldane 
saw  that  her  eyes  had  the  same  appealing  and  indescrib- 
able expression,  both  of  sadness  and  terror,  reminding 
one  of  some  timid  and  beautiful  animal  that  had  been 
brought  to  bay  by  an  enemy  that  was  feared  inexpressibly » 
but  from  which  there  seemed  no  escape. 

He  took  her  hand  with  a  strong  and  reassuring  pres- 
sure. 

"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed  with  a  slight  shudder,  "  how  can 
the  sun  shine?  The  birds,  too,  are  singing  as  if  there 
were  no  death  and  sorrow  in  the  world." 

"  Only  a  perfect  faith,  Miss  Amy,  can  enable  us,  who 
do  know  there  is  death  and  sorrow,  to  follow  their  exam- 
ple." 

"  It's  all  a  black  mystery  to  me,"  she  replied,  turning 
away. 

"So  it  was  to  me  once." 

An  old  colored  man,  the  husband  of  the  negress  who 
had  assisted  Haldane  in  his  watch,  now  appeared  and 
announced  breakfast. 

It  was  a  comparatively  silent  meal,  little  Bertha  doing 
most  of  the  talking.  Amy  would  not  have  touched  a 
mouthful  had  it  not  been  for  Haldane's  persuasion. 

As  soon  as  Bertha  had  finished,  she  said  to  Haldane  : 

"  Amy  told  me  that  you  did  papa  ever  so  much  good 
last  evening  :  now  I  want  to  see  him  right  away." 

"  Does  she  not  know?  "  asked  Haldane  in  a  low  tone. 

420 


"0   PRICELESS  LIFE!''  421 

Amy  shook  her  head.  "It's  too  awful.  What  can 
I  tell  her?  "  she  faltered. 

"It  is  indeed  inexpressibly  sad,  but  I  think  I  can  tell 
the  child  without  its  seeming  awful  to  her,  and  yet  tell 
her  the  truth,"  he  replied.     "  Shall  I  try  to  explain  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  let  me  listen,  too,  if  you  can  rob  the  event 
of  any  of  its  unutterable  horror." 

"  Will  Bertie  come  and  hsten  to  me  if  I  will  tell  her 
about  papa  ?  " 

The  child  climbed  into  his  lap  at  once,  and  turned  her 
large  blue  eyes  up  to  his  in  perfect  faith. 

"  Don't  you  remember  that  papa  spoke  last  night  of 
leaving  you  ;  but  said  you  would  surely  meet  again  ?  " 

At  this  the  child's  lip  began  to  quiver,  and  she  said: 
"  But  papa  always  comes  and  kisses  me  good-by  before 
he  goes  away." 

"Perhaps  he  did,  Bertie,  when  you  were  asleep  in 
your  crib  last  night." 

"Oh  yes,  now  I'm  sure  he  did  if  he's  gone  away, 
'cause  I  'member  he  once  woke  me  up  kissing  me 
good-by." 

"  I  think  he  kissed  you  very  softly,  and  so  you  didn't 
wake.  Our  dear  Saviour,  Jesus,  came  last  night,  and 
papa  went  away  with  Him.  But  he  loves  you  just  as 
much  as  ever,  and  he  isn't  sick  any  more,  and  you  will 
surely  see  him  again." 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  bring  me  something  nice  when 
he  comes?  " 

"  Wlien  you  see  him  again  he  will  have  for  you,  Bertie, 
more  beautiful  things  than  you  ever  saw  before  in  all  your 
life,  but  it  may  be  a  long  time  before  you  see  him." 

The  child  slipped  down  from  his  knee  quite  satisfied 
and  full  of  pleasant  anticipation,  and  went  back  to  her 
play  on  the  piazza. 

"  Do  you  believe  all  that  ?  "  asked  Amy,  looking  as  if 
Bertha  had  been  told  a  fairy  tale. 


422   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY 

"  I  do,  indeed.  I  have  told  the  child  what  I  regard  as 
the  highest  form  of  the  truth,  though  expressed  in  simple 
language.  Miss  Amy,  I  know  that  your  father  was  ever 
kind  to  you.  Did  he  ever  turn  coldly  away  from  any 
earnest  appeal  of  yours?  " 

"  Never,  never,"  cried  the  girl,  with  a  rush  of  tears. 

"  And  can  you  believe  that  his  Heavenly  Father  turned 
from  his  touching  appeal  last  night?  Christ  said  to  those 
who  were  trusting  in  Him,  '  I  will  come  again  and  receive 
you  unto  Myself;  that  where  I  am  there  ye  may  be  also.* 
As  long  as  your  father  was  conscious,  he  was  clinging  to 
that  divine  hand  that  has  never  failed  one  true  believer 
in  all  these  centuries.  Surely,  Miss  Amy,  your  own  rea- 
son tells  you  that  the  poor  helpless  form  that  we  must 
bury  to-day  is  not  your  father.  The  genial  spirit,  the 
mind  that  was  a  power  out  in  the  world,  the  soul  with  its 
noble  and  intense  affections  and  aspirations — these  made 
the  man  that  was  your  father.  Therefore  I  say  with  truth 
that  the  man,  the  imperishable  part,  has  gone  away  with 
Him  who  loved  humanity,  and  who  has  prepared  a  bet- 
ter place  for  us  than  this  earth  can  ever  be  under  the 
most  favoring  circumstances.  You  can  understand  that 
the  body  is  but  the  changing,  perishing  shadow. 

"  When  you  compare  the  poor,  disease-shattered  house 
in  yonder  room,  with  the  regal  spirit  that  dwelt  within  it, 
when  you  compare  that  prostrate  form — which,  like  a 
fallen  tree  in  the  forest,  is  yielding  to  the  universal  law 
of  change — with  the  strong,  active,  intelligent  man  that 
was  your  father,  do  not  your  very  senses  assure  you  that 
your  father  has  gone  away,  and,  as  I  told  Bertha,  you 
will  surely  see  him  again  ?  It  may  seem  to  you  that  what 
I  said  about  the  good-by  kiss  was  but  a  fiction  to  soothe 
the  child,  but  in  my  belief  it  was  not.  Though  we  know 
with  certainty  so  little  of  the  detail  of  the  life  beyond,  we 
have  two  good  grounds  on  w  hich  to  base  reasonable  con- 
jecture.    We  know  of  God's  love  ;  we  know  your  father^s 


"0  PRICELESS  LIFEt'^  423 

love  ;  now  what  would  be  natural  in  view  of  these  two 
facts  ?  I  think  we  can  manage  to  keep  Bertha  from  see- 
ing that  which  is  no  longer  her  father,  and  thus  every 
memory  of  him  will  be  pleasant.  We  will  leave  intact 
the  impression  which  he  himself  made  when  he  acted 
consciously,  for  this  which  now  remains  is  not  himself  at 
all." 

Further  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  arrival  of. 
Dr.  Orton  ;  but  Haldane  saw  that  Amy  had  grasped  at 
his  words  as  one  might  try  to  catch  a  rope  that  was  being 
lowered  to  him  in  some  otherwise  hopeless  abyss. 

"  I  feared  that  such  might  be  the  end,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, gloomily,  on  learning  from  Haldane  the  events  of  the 
night  ;  "  it  frequently  is  in  constitutions  like  his."  Then 
he  went  up  and  saw  Mrs.  Poland. 

The  lady's  condition  gave  him  much  anxiety,  but  he 
kept  it  to  himself  until  they  were  alone.  After  leaving 
quieting  medicines  for  her  with  Amy,  and  breaking  ut- 
terly down  in  trying  to  say  a  few  words  of  comfort  to 
the  fatherless  girl,  he  motioned  to  Haldane  to  follow  him. 

"  Come  with  me  to  the  city,"  he  said,  "and  we  will 
arrange  for  such  disposal  of  the  remains  as  is  best." 

Having  informed  Amy  of  the  nature  of  his  errand,  and 
promising  to  telegraph  Mrs,  Arnot,  Haldane  accompanied 
the  physician  to  the  business  part  of  town. 

"You  have  been  a  godsend  to  them,"  said  the  kind- 
hearted  old  doctor,  blowing  his  nose  furiously.  "This 
case  comes  a  little  nearer  home  than  any  that  has  yet 
occurred  ;  but  then  the  bottom  is  just  falling  out  of  every- 
thing, and  it  looks  as  if  we  would  all  go  before  we  have  a 
frost.  It  seems  to  me,  though,  that  I  can  stand  anything 
rather  than  see  Amy  go.  She  is  engaged  to  a  nephew 
of  mine — as  fine  a  fellow  as  there  is  in  town,  if  I  do  say 
it,  and  I  love  the  girl  as  if  she  were  my  own  child.  My 
nephew  is  traveling  in  Europe  now,  and  I  doubt  if  he 
knows  the  danger  hanging  over  the  girl.     If  anything 


424   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

happens  to  her  it  will  about  kill  him,  for  he  idolizes  her, 
and  well  he  may.  I'm  dreadfully  anxious  about  them  all, 
I  fear  most  for  Mrs.  Poland's  mind.  She's  a  New-Eng- 
land lady,  as  I  suppose  you  know — wonderfully  gifted 
woman,  too  much  brain  power  for  that  fragile  body  of 
hers.  Well,  perhaps  you  did  not  understand  all  that  was 
said  last  night  ;  but  Mrs.  Poland  has  always  been  a  great 
reader,  and  she  has  been  carried  away  by  the  material- 
istic philosophy  that's  in  fashion  now-a-days.  Queer, 
isn't  it  ?  and  she  two-thirds  spirit  herself.  Her  husband 
and  my  best  friend  was  as  genial  and  whole-souled  a 
man  as  ever  lived,  fond  of  a  good  dinner,  fond  of  a  joke, 
and  fond  of  his  family  to  idolatry.  His  wife  had  un- 
bounded influence  over  him,  or  otherwise  he  might  have 
been  a  httle  fast ;  but  he  always  laughed  at  what  he 
called  her  'Yankee  notions,'  and  said  he  would  not  ac- 
cept her  philosophy  until  she  became  a  little  more  mate- 
rial herself.  Poland  was  a  square,  successful  business- 
man, but  I  fear  he  did  not  lay  up  much.  He  was  too 
open-hearted  and  free-handed — a  typical  Southerner  I 
suppose  you  would  say  at  the  North,  that  is,  those  of  you 
who  don't  think  of  us  as  all  slave-drivers  and  slave- 
traders.  I  expect  the  North  and  South  will  have  to  have 
a  good,  square,  stand-up  fight  before  they  understand 
each  other." 

"God  forbid  !  "  ejaculated  Haldane. 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  you  and  I  will  ever  quarrel.  You 
may  call  us  what  you  please  if  you  will  take  care  of  Po- 
land's family." 

"  I  have  already  learned  to  have  a  very  thorough  re- 
spect both  for  your  head  and  heart.  Doctor  Orton." 

"  I'm  considerably  worse  than  they  average  down 
here.  But  as  I  was  telling  you,  Mrs.  Poland  was  a  New- 
England  woman,  and  to  humor  her  her  husband  em- 
ployed such  white  servants  as  could  be  got  in  the  city, 
and  poor  trash  they  were  most  of  the  time.     When  the 


"0  PRICELESS  LIFE!''  425 

fever  appeared  they  left  instantly.  Poland  bought  the 
old  colored  people  who  are  there  with  the  place,  and 
gave  them  their  freedom,  and  only  they  have  stood  by 
them.  What  they  would  have  done  last  night  if  you  had 
not  come,  God  only  knows.  Poor  Amy,  poor  Amy  !  " 
sighed  the  old  doctor  tempestuously  ;  "  she's  the  prettiest 
and  pluckiest  little  girl  in  the  city.  She's  half  frightened 
out  of  her  wits,  I  can  see  that,  and  yet  nothing  but  force 
could  get  her  away.  For  my  nephew's  sake  and  her 
own  I  tried  hard  to  induce  her  to  go,  but  she  stands  her 
ground  like  a  soldier.  What  is  best  now  I  hardly  know. 
Mrs.  Poland  is  so  utterly  prostrated  that  it  might  cost 
her  life  to  move  her.  Besides,  they  have  all  been  so- 
terribly  exposed  to  the  disease  that  they  might  be  taken 
with  it  on  the  journey,  and  to  have  them  go  wandering^ 
off  the  Lord  knows  where  at  this  chaotic  time  looks  to- 
me about  as  bad  as  staying  where  they  are  and  I  can 
look  after  them.  But  we'll  see,  we'll  see."  And  in  hke 
manner  the  sorely-troubled  old  gentleman  talked  rapidly 
on,  till  they  reached  the  undertaker's,  seemingly  finding- 
a  rehef  in  thus  unburdening  his  heart  to  one  of  whose 
sympathy  he  felt  sure,  and  who  might  thus  be  led  to  feel 
a  deeper  interest  in  the  objects  of  his  charge. 

Even  at  that  time  of  general  disaster  Haldane's  abun- 
dant funds  enabled  him  to  secure  prompt  attention.  It 
was  decided  that  Mr.  Poland's  remains  should  be  placed 
in  a  receiving  vault  until  such  time  as  they  could  be  re- 
moved to  the  family  burying-ground  in  another  city,  and 
before  the  day  closed  everything  had  been  attended  to  in 
the  manner  which  refined  Christian  feeling  would  dictate. 

Before  parting  with  Haldane,  Doctor  Orton  had  given 
him  careful  directions  what  to  do  in  case  he  recognized 
symptoms  of  the  fever  in  any  of  the  family  or  himself- 
"  Keep  Amy  and  Bertha  with  their  mother  all  you  can,"" 
he  said  ;  "  anything  to  rouse  the  poor  woman  from  that 
stony  despair  into  which  she  seems  to  have  fallen." 


426  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

The  long  day  at  length  came  to  an  end.  Haldane  of 
necessity  had  been  much  away,  and  he  welcomed  the 
cool  and  quiet  evening  ;  and  yet  he  knew  that  with  the 
shadow  of  night,  though  so  grateful  after  the  glare  and 
lieat  to  which  he  had  been  subjected,  the  fatal  pestilence 
approached  the  nearer,  as  if  to  strike  a  deadlier  blow. 
As  the  pioneer  forefathers  of  the  city  had  shut  their  doors 
and  windows  at  night-fall  lest  their  savage  and  lurking 
foes  should  send  a  fatal  arrow  from  some  dusky  covert, 
so  now  again,  with  the  close  of  the  day,  all  doors  and 
windows  must  be  shut  against  a  more  subtle  and  re- 
morseless enemy,  whose  viewless  shafts  sped  u-ith  a 
surer  aim  in  darkness. 

Amy  had  spent  much  of  the  day  in  unburdening  her 
lieart  in  a  long  letter  to  her  Cousin  Laura,  in  w  hich  in  her 
own  vivid  way  she  portrayed  the  part  Haldane  had  acted 
toward  them.  She  had  also  written  to  her  distant  and 
unconscious  lover,  and  feehng  that  it  might  be  the  last 
time,  she  had  poured  out  to  him  a  passion  that  was  as  in- 
tense and  yet  as  pure  as  the  transparent  flame  that  we 
sometimes  see  issuing  from  the  heart  of  the  hard-wood 
maple,  as  we  sit  brooding  over  our  winter  fire. 

"  Come  and  sit  with  us,  and  as  one  of  us,"  she  had 
said  to  Haldane,  and  so  they  had  all  gathered  at  the 
iDcdside  of  the  widow,  who  had  scarcely  strength  to  do 
more  than  fix  her  dark,  wistful  eyes  on  one  and  another 
■of  the  group.  She  was  so  bewildered  and  overwhelmed 
with  her  loss  that  her  mind  had  partially  suspended  its 
action.  She  saw  and  heard  everything  ;  she  remembered 
it  all  afterwards  ;  but  now  the  very  weight  of  the  blow 
3iad  so  stunned  her  that  she  was  mercifully  saved  from 
the  agony  of  full  consciousness. 

Little  Bertha  climbed  upon  Haldane' s  lap  and  pleaded 
for  a  story. 

"  Yes,  Bertie,"  he  said,  "  and  I  think  I  know  a  story 
that  you  would  hke.     You  remember  I   told  you   that 


"0  PRICELESS  LIFE!''  427 

your  papa  had  gone  away  with  Jesus  ;  would  you  not  like 
to  hear  a  story  about  this  good  friend  of  your  papa's  ?  " 
"  Yes,  yes,  I  would.  Do  you  know  much  about  Him  ?  '* 
"  Quite  a  good  deal,  for  He's  my  friend  too.  I  know 
one  true  story  about  Him  that  I  often  like  to  think  of. 
Listen,  and  I  will  tell  it  to  you.  Jesus  is  the  God  who- 
made  us,  and  He  lives  'way  up  above  the  sky.  But  He 
not  only  made  us,  Bertie,  but  He  also  loves  us,  and  in 
order  to  show  us  how  He  loves  us  He  is  always  coming 
to  this  world  to  do  us  good  ;  and  once  He  came  and 
lived  here  just  like  a  man,  so  that  we  might  all  be  sure 
that  He  cared  for  us  and  wanted  to  make  us  good  and 
happy.  Well,  at  that  time  when  He  lived  here  in  this 
world  as  a  man  He  had  some  true  friends  who  loved  Him 
and  believed  in  Him.  At  a  certain  time  they  were  all 
staying  on  the  shore  of  a  sea,  and  one  evening  Jesus  told 
His  friends  to  take  a  little  boat  and  go  over  to  the  other 
side  of  the  sea,  and  He  w^ould  meet  them  there.  Then 
Jesus,  who  wanted  to  be  alone,  went  up  the  side  of  the 
mountain  that  rose  from  the  water's  edge.  Then  night 
came  and  it  began  to  grow  darker  and  darker,  and  at 
last  it  was  so  dark  that  the  friends  of  Jesus  that  were  in 
the  boat  could  only  see  a  very  little  ways.  Then  a 
moaning,  sighing  wind  began  to  rise,  and  the  poor  men 
in  the  boat  saw  that  a  storm  was  coming,  and  they  pulled 
hard  with  their  oars  in  hopes  of  getting  over  on  the  other 
side  before  the  storm  became  very  bad  ;  but  by  the  time 
they  reached  the  very  middle  of  the  sea,  the  wind  began 
to  blow  furiously,  just  as  you  have  seen  it  blow  when  the 
trees  bent  'way  over  toward  the  ground,  and  some  per- 
haps were  broken  down.  A  strong  wind  at  sea  makes 
the  water  rise  up  in  waves,  and  these  waves  began  to- 
beat  against  the  boat,  and  before  very  long  some  of  the 
highest  ones  would  dash  into  it.  The  men  pulled  with 
their  oars  with  all  their  might,  but  it  was  of  no  use  ;  the 
wind  was  right  against  them,  and  though  they  did  their 


428   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

best  hour  after  hour,  they  still  could  get  no  nearer  the 
shore.  How  sad  and  full  of  danger  was  their  condition  ! 
tiie  dark,  dark  night  was  above  and  around  them,  the 
dark,  angry  waves  dashing  by  and  over  them,  the  cold, 
black  depths  of  water  beneath  them,  and  no  sound  in 
their  ears  but  the  wild,  rushing  storm.  What  do  you 
think  became  of  them  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  they  were  drowned,"  said  Bertha,  looking 
up  with  eyes  that  were  full  of  fear  and  trouble. 

"  Have  you  forgotten  Jesus?  " 

"  But  He's  'way  off  on  the  side  of  the  mountain." 

"  He  is  never  so  far  from  His  friends  but  that  He  can 
see  them  and  know  all  about  them.  He  saw  these 
friends  in  the  boat,  for  Jesus  can  see  in  the  darkness  as 
well  as  in  the  light  ;  and  when  the  night  grew  darkest, 
and  the  waves  were  highest,  and  His  friends  most  weary 
and  discouraged.  He  came  to  them  so  that  they  might 
know  that  He  could  save  them,  when  they  felt  they  could 
not  save  themselves.  And  He  came  as  no  other  help 
could  have  come — walking  over  the  very  waves  that 
threatened  to  swallow  up  His  friends  ;  and  when  He  was 
near  to  them  He  called  out,  '  Be  of  good  cheer,  it  is  I  ; 
be  not  afraid.'  Then  He  went  right  up  to  the  boat  and 
stepped  into  it  among  His  friends.  Oh  !  what  a  happy 
change  His  coming  made,  for  the  winds  ceased,  the 
waves  went  down,  and  in  a  very  little  while  the  boat 
reached  the  seashore.  The  bright  sun  rose  up,  the  dark- 
ness fled  away,  and  the  friends  of  Jesus  were  safe.  They 
have  been  safe  ever  since.  Nothing  can  harm  Jesus' 
friends.  He  takes  care  of  them  from  day  to  day,  from 
year  to  year,  and  from  age  to  age.  Whenever  they  are 
in  trouble  or  pain  or  danger  He  comes  to  them  as  He  did 
to  His  friends  in  the  boat,  and  He  brings  them  safely 
through  it  all.  Don't  you  think  He  is  a  good  friend  to 
have  ?  " 

"  Isn't  I  too  little  to  be  His  friend?  " 


"0  PRICELESS  LIFE!'''  429 

"No,  indeed  ;  no  one  ever  loved  little  children  as  He 
does.  He  used  to  take  them  in  His  arms  and  bless  them, 
and  He  said,  '  Suffer  them  to  come  to  Me  ; '  and  where 
He  lives  He  has  everything  beautiful  to  make  little  chil- 
dren happy." 

"  And  you  say  papa  is  with  Him?  " 

"  Yes,  papa  is  with  Him." 

"  Why  can't  we  all  go  to  Him  now  ?  " 

"  As  soon  as  He  is  ready  for  us  He  will  come  for  us." 

"  I  wish  He  was  ready  for  mamma,  Amy,  and  me  now, 
and  then  we  could  all  be  together.  It's  so  lonely  with- 
out papa.  Oh!  I'm  so  tired,"  she  added  after  a  few 
moments,  and  a  httle  later  her  head  dropped  against 
Haidane's  breast,  and  she  was  asleep. 

"  Mr.  Haldane,"  said  Amy  in  a  low-,  agitated  voice, 
"have  you  embodied  your  faith  in  that  story  to  Bertha?  " 

"Yes,  Miss  Amy." 

"  Why  do  you  think  " — and  she  hesitated.  "  How  do 
you  know,"  she  began  again,  "that  any  such  Being  as 
Jesus  exists  and  comes  to  any  one's  help?  " 

"  Granting  that  the  story  I  have  told  you  is  true,  how 
did  His  disciples  knbw  that  He  came  to  their  help  ?  Did 
not  the  hushed  winds  prove  it  ?  Did  not  the  quieted 
waters  prove  it  ?  Did  not  His  presence  wnth  them  assure 
them  of  it  ?  By  equal  proof  I  know  that  He  can  and 
\\\\\  come  to  the  aid  of  those  who  look  to  Him  for  aid.  I 
have  passed  through  darker  nights  and  wilder  storms 
than  ever  lowered  over  the  Sea  of  Galilee,  and  I  know  by 
simple,  practical,  happy  experience  that  Jesus  Christ, 
through  His  all-pervading  Spirit,  has  come  to  me  in  my 
utter  extremity  again  and  again,  and  that  I  have  the 
same  as  felt  His  rescuing  hand.  Not  that  my  trials  and 
temptations  have  been  greater  than  those  of  many  others, 
but  I  have  been  weaker  than  others,  and  I  have  often 
been  conscious  of  His  sustaining  power  when  otherwise  I 
would   have  sunk  beneath   my   burden.     This  is  not  a 


430   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTl/EV. 


^ 


theory,  Miss  Amy,  nor  the  infatuation  of  a  few  ignorant 
people.  It  is  the  downright  experience  of  mukitudes  in 
every  walk  of  life,  and,  on  merely  scientific  grounds,  is 
worth  as  much  as  any  other  experience.  This  story  of 
Jesus  gains  the  sympathy  of  httle  Bertha  ;  it  also  com- 
mands the  reverent  belief  of  the  most  gifted  and  cul- 
tivated minds  in  the  world." 

"Oh,  that  I  could  believe  all  this;  but  there  is  so 
much  mystery,  so  much  that  is  dark. ' '  Then  she  glanced 
at  her  mother,  who  had  turned  away  her  face  and  seemed 
to  be  sleeping,  and  she  asked  :  "If  Christ  is  so  strong 
to  help  and  save,  why  is  He  not  strong  to  prevent  evil  ? 
Why  is  there  a  cry  of  agony  going  up  from  this  stricken 
city  ?  Why  must  father  die  who  was  everything  to  us  ? 
Why  must  mother  suffer  so  ?  Why  am  I  so  shadowed  by 
an  awful  fear?  Life  means  so  much  to  me.  I  love  it," 
•she  continued  in  low  yet  passionate  tones.  "  I  love  the 
song  of  birds,  the  breath  of  flowers,  the  sunlight,  and 
•every  beautiful  thing.  I  love  sensation.  I  am  not  one 
who  finds  a  tame  and  tranquil  pleasure  in  the  things  I 
like  or  in  the  friends  I  love.  My  joys  thrill  every  nerve 
and  fiber  of  my  being.  I  cling  tg  them,  I  cannot  give 
them  up.  A  few  days  ago  life  was  as  full  of  rich  promise 
to  me  as  our  tropical  spring.  It  is  still ,  though  I  will  never 
cease  to  feel  the  pain  of  this  great  sorrow,  and  yet  this 
horrible  pit  of  death,  corruption,  and  nothingness  yawns 
at  my  very  feet.  Mr.  Haldane,"  she  said  in  a  still  lower 
and  more  shuddering  tone,  "  I  have  a  terrible  presenti- 
ment that  I  shall  perish  with  this  loathsome  disease.  I 
may  seem  to  you,  who  are  so  quiet  and  brave,  very  weak 
and  cowardly  ;  but  I  shrink  from  death  with  a  dread 
which  you  cannot  understand  and  which  no  language  can 
express.  It  is  repugnant  to  every  instinct  of  my  being, 
and  I  can  think  of  it  only  with  unutterable  loathing.  If 
I  were  old  and  feeble,  if  I  had  tasted  all  the  joys  of  life 
I  might  submit,  but  not  now,  not  now.     I  feel  with  father 


"0   PRICELESS  LIFE!''  431 

that  it  is  fiendish  cruelty  to  give  one  such  an  intense  love 
of  life  and  then  wrench  it  away  ;  and,  passionately  as  I 
love  life,  there  is  one  far  more  dear.  There  is  that  in 
your  nature  which  has  so  won  my  confidence  that  I  can 
reveal  to  you  my  whole  heart.  Mr.  Haldane,  I  love  one 
who  is  hke  you,  manly  and  noble,  and  dearly  as  I  prize 
life,  I  think  I  could  give  it  away  in  slow  torture  for  his  sake, 
if  required.  How  often  my  heart  has  thrilled  to  see  his  eyes 
kindle  with  his  foolish  admiration,  the  infatuation  of  love 
which  makes  its  object  beautiful  at  least  to  the  lover. 
And  now  to  think  that  he  does  not  know  what  I  suffer 
and  fear,  to  think  that  I  may  never  see  him  again,  to 
think  that  when  he  returns  I  may  be  a  hideous  mass  of 
corruption  that  he  cannot  even  approach.  Out  upon 
the  phrases  '  beneficent  nature,'  and  ♦  natural  law.' 
Laws  which  permit  such  things  are  most  unnatural,  and 
to  endow  one  with  such  a  love  of  life,  such  boundless" 
■capabihties  of  enjoying  life,  and  then  at  the  supreme 
moment  when  the  loss  will  be  most  bitterly  felt  to  snatch 
flt  away,  looks  to  me  more  like  the  work  of  devihsh  in- 
genuity than  of  a  '  beneficent  nature.'  I  feel  with  father, 
it  is  fiendish  cruelty." 

Haldane  bowed  his  head  among  Bertha's  curls  to  hide 
the  tears  that  would  come  at  this  desperate  cry  of  dis- 
tress ;  but  Amy's  eyes  were  hard  and  dry,  and  had  the 
agonized  look  which  might  have  been  their  expression 
had  she  been  enduring  physical  torture. 

"  Miss  Amy,"  he  said  brokenly  after  a  moment,  "  you 
forget  that  your  father  said,  '  If  this  life  is  all,  it  is  fiend- 
ishly cruel  to  tear  us  from  that  which  we  have  learned  to 
love  so  dearly,'  and  I  agree  with  him.  But  this  life  is 
not  all  ;  the  belief  that  human  life  ends  at  death  is  revolt- 
ing to  reason,  conscience,  and  every  sense  of  justice. 
If  this  were  true  the  basest  villain  could  escape  all  the 
•consequences  of  his  evil  in  a  moment,  and  you  who  are 
so  innocent,  so  exquisite  in  your  spiritual  organization,  so 


432   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

brave  and  noble  that  you  can  face  this  awful  fear  in  your 
devotion  to  those  you  love — you  by  ceasing  to  breathe 
merely  would  sink  to  precisely  the  same  level  and  be  no 
different  from  the  lifeless  clay  of  the  villain.  Such 
monstrous  injustice  is  impossible  ;  it  outrages  every  in- 
stinct of  justice,  every  particle  of  reason  that  I  have. 

"Miss  Amy,  don't  you  see  that  you  are  like  the 
disciples  in  the  boat  out  in  the  midst  of  the  sea?  The 
night  is  dark  above  you,  the  storm  is  wild  around  you, 
the  waves  are  dashing  over  you,  the  httle  boat  is  frail, 
and  there  are  such  cold,  dark  depths  beneath  it.  But  we 
can't  help  these  things.  We  can't  explain  the  awful 
mystery  of  evil  and  suffering ;  sooner  or  later  every 
human  life  becomes  enveloped  in  darkness,  storm,  and 
danger.  That  wave-tossed  boat  in  the  midst  of  the  sea 
is  an  emblem  of  the  commonest  human  experience.  On 
the  wide  sea  of  life,  numberless  little  barks  are  at  this 
moment  at  the  point  of  foundering.  Few  are  so  richly 
freighted  as  yours,  but  the  same  unknown  depths  are 
beneath  each.  But,  Miss  Amy,  I  pray  you  remember 
the  whole  of  this  suggestive  Bible  story.  Those  im- 
periled disciples  were  watched  by  a  loving,  powerful 
friend.  He  came  to  their  aid,  making  the  very  waves 
that  threatened  to  engulf  the  pathway  of  His  rescuing  love. 
He  saved  those  old-time  friends.  They  are  living  to- 
day, they  will  live  forever.  I  can't  explain  the  dark  and 
terrible  things  of  which  this  world  is  full,  I  cannot  ex- 
plain the  awful  mystery  of  evil  in  any  of  its  forms.  I 
know  the  pestilence  is  all  around  us  ;  I  know  it  seems  to 
threaten  your  precious,  beautiful  life.  I  recognize  the 
fact,  as  I  also  remember  the  fact  of  the  darkness  and 
storm  around  the  little  boat.  But  I  also  know  with  ab- 
solute certainty  that  there  is  one  who  can  come  to  your 
rescue,  whose  province  it  is  to  give  life,  deathless  life,  life 
more  rich  and  full  of  thriUing  happiness  than  you  have 
ever  dreamed  of,  even  with  your  vivid  imagination." 


"0  PRICELESS  LIFE!''  433 

'♦  How,  how  can  you  know  this?  \Nhd.\. proof  can  you 
give  me  ?  "  she  asked  ;  and  no  poor  creature,  whose  Ufe 
was  indeed  at  stake,  ever  bent  forward  more  eagerly  to 
catch  the  sentence  of  hfe  or  death,  than  did  Amy  Poland 
the  coming  answer. 

"  I  know  it,"  he  replied  more  calmly,  "  on  the  strongest 
possible  grounds  of  evidence — my  own  experience,  the 
experience  of  Mrs.  Arnot,  who  is  sincerity  itself,  and  the 
experience  of  multitudes  of  others.  Believers  in  Jesus 
Christ  have  been  verifying  His  promises  in  every  age,  and 
ill  every  possible  emergency  and  condition  of  life,  and  if 
their  testimony  is  refused,  human  consciousness  is  no 
longer  a  basis  of  knowledge.  No  one  ever  had  a  better 
friend  than  Mrs.  Arnot  has  been  to  me  ;  she  has  been  the 
means  of  saving  me  from  disgrace,  shame,  and  every- 
thing that  was  base,  and  I  love  her  with  a  gratitude  that 
is  beyond  words,  and  yet  I  am  not  so  conscious  of  her 
practical  help  and  friendship  as  that  of  the  Divine  Man 
who  has  been  my  patient  unwavering  friend  in  my  long, 
hard  struggle." 

Under  his  words,  the  hard,  dry  despair  of  Amy  had 
given  way  to  gentler  feelings,  which  found  expression  in 
low,  piteous  sobbing. 

"  Oh,  when  will  He  come  to  me?  "  she  asked,  "for  I 
cannot  doubt  after  such  words." 

"When  you  most  need  Him,  Miss  Amy.  It  is  your 
privilege  to  ask  His  comforting  and  sustaining  presence 
now  ;  but  He  will  come  when  He  sees  that  you  most  need 
Him." 

"  If  ever  poor  creatures  needed  such  a  friend  as  you 
have  described,  we  need  Him 'now,"  faltered  Mrs.  Poland, 
turning  her  face  toward  them  and  then  they  knew  that 
she  had  heard  all. 

Amy  sprang  to  her  embrace,  exclaiming,  "  Mother,  is 
it  possible  that  we  can  find  such  a  friend  in  our  extremity  ?  " 

"  Amy,  I  am  bewildered,  I  am  overwhelmed." 


434  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

Haldane  carried  little  Bertha  to  her  crib  and  covered 
her  with  an  afghan.  Then  coming  to  the  lady's  side  he 
took  her  hand  and  said  gently,  and  yet  with  that  quiet 
firmness  which  does  much  to  produce  conviction  :  "  Mrs. 
Poland,  before  leaving  your  husband  to  his  quiet  sleep 
we  read  words  which  Jesus  Christ  once  spoke  to  a 
despairing,  grief-stricken  woman.  Take  them  now  as  if 
spoken  to  you.  '  Jesus  said  unto  her,  I  am  the  resurrec- 
tion and  the  life:  he  that  believeth  in  Me,  though  he  were 
dead,  yet  shall  he  live  ;  and  whosoever  liveth  and  be- 
lieveth in  Me  shall  never  die.'  As  your  husband  said  to 
you,  you  will  all  surely  meet  again." 

Then  he  lifted  her  hand  to  his  lips  in  a  caress  that  was 
full  of  sympathy  and  respect,  and  silently  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

A   MAN  VERSUS   A   CONNOISSEUR. 

Amy's  sad  presentiment  was  almost  verified.  She  was 
very  ill,  and  for  hours  of  painful  uncertainty  Haldane 
watched  over  her  and  administered  the  remedies  which 
Dr.  Orton  left  ;  and  indeed  the  doctor  himself  was  never 
absent  very  long,  for  his  heart  was  bound  up  in  the  girl. 
At  last,  after  a  wavering  poise,  the  scale  turned  in  favor 
of  life,  and  she  began  to  slowly  revive. 

Poor  Mrs.  Poland  was  so  weak  that  she  could  not  raise 
her  head  or  hand,  but,  with  her  wistful,  pathetic  eyes, 
followed  every  motion,  for  she  insisted  on  having  Amy 
in  the  same  room  with  herself.  Aunt  Saba,  the  old 
negress,  to  whom  Mr.  Poland  had  given  her  freedom, 
continued  a  faithful  assistant.  Bound  to  her  mistress  by 
the  stronger  chain  of  gratitude  and  affection,  she  served 
with  fidelity  in  every  way  possible  to  her  ;  and  she  and 
her  husband  were  so  old  and  humble  that  death  seem- 
ingly had  forgotten  them. 

Before  Amy  was  stricken  down  with  the  fever  the  look 
of  unutterable  dread  and  anxiety  that  was  so  painful  to 
witness  passed  away,  and  gave  place  to  an  expression  of 
quiet  serenity. 

"  I  need  no  further  argument,"  she  had  said  to  Hal- 
dane ;  "  Christ  has  come  across  the  waves  of  my  trouble. 
I  am  as  sure  of  it  as  I  am  sure  that  you  came  to  my  aid. 
I  do  not  know  whether  mother  or  Bertha  or  I  will  survive, 
but  I  believe  that  God's  love  is  as  great  as  His  power, 
and  that  in  some  way  and  at  some  time  all  will  come  out 
for  the  best.  I  have  written  to  my  friend  abroad  and  to 
Auntie  Arnot  all  about"  it,  and  now  I  am  simply  waiting. 
436 


436  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

O,  Mr,  Haldane,  I  am  so  happy  to  tell  you,"  she  had 
added,  "  that  I  think  mother  is  accepting  the  same  faith, 
slowly  and  in  accordance  with  her  nature,  but  surely 
nevertheless.  I  am  like  father,  quick  and  intense  in  my 
feelings.  I  feel  that  which  is  false  or  that  which  is  true, 
rather  than  reason  it  out  as  mother  does." 

Aunt  Saba  and  her  husband  managed  to  take  care  of 
Bertha  and  keep  her  mind  occupied  ;  but  before  Amy's 
convalescence  had  proceeded  very  far  the  little  girl  was 
suddenly  prostrated  by  a  most  violent  attack  of  the  dis- 
ease, and  she  withered  before  the  hot  fever  like  a  fragile 
flower  in  a  simoom.  Haldane  went  hastily  for  Dr.  Orton, 
but  he  gave  scarcely  a  hope  from  the  first. 

During  the  night  following  the  day  on  which  she  had 
been  stricken  down  a  strange  event  occurred. ^  The 
sultry  heat  had  been  follow^ed  by  a  tropical  thunder- 
storm, which  had  gathered  in  the  darkness,  and  often 
gave  to  the  midnight  a  momentary  and  brighter  glare 
than  that  of  the  previous  noon.  The  child  would  start 
as  the  flashes  grew  more  intense,  for  they  seemed  to  dis- 
tress her  very  much. 

As  Haldane  was  lifting  her  to  give  her  a  drink  he  said  : 
"  Perhaps  Bertie  will  see  papa  very  soon." 
Hearing  the  Avord  "papa,"  the  child  forgot  her  pain 
for  a  moment  and  smiled.     At  that  instant  there  was  a 
blinding  flash  of  lightning,   and  the  appalling  thunder- 
peal followed  without  any  interval. 

Both  Mrs.  Poland  and  Amy  gave  a  faint  and  involun- 
tary cry  of  alarm,  but  Haldane's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
little  smiling  face  that  he  held  so  near  to  his  own.  The 
smile  did  not  fade.     The  old,  perplexed  expression  of 

'  It  is  stated  on  high  medical  authority  that  "  all  patients  suffer 
more  during  thunder-showers,"  and  an  instance  is  given  of  a 
physician  who  was  suffering  from  this  fever,  and  who  was 
killed  as  instantly,  by  a  vivid  flash  and  loud  report,  as  if  he  had 
been  struck  by  the  lightning. 


A   31  AN   VEESUS  A    CONNOISSEUR.  437 

pain  did  not  come  back,  and  after  a  moment  he  sa'id 
quietly  and  very  gently  : 

"  Bertie  is  with  her  father  ;  "  and  he  Hfted  her  up  and 
carried  her  to  her  mother,  and  then  to  Amy,  that  they 
might  see  the  beautiful  and  smiling  expression  of  the 
child's  face. 

But  their  eyes  were  so  blinded  by  tears,  that  they  could 
scarcely  see  the  face  from  which  all  trace  of  suffering  had 
been  banished  almost  as  truly  as  from  the  innocent  spirit. 

Having  laid  her  back  in  the  crib,  and  arranged  the 
little  form  as  if  sleeping,  he  carried  the  crib,  with  Aunt 
Saba's  help,  to  the  room  where  Mr.  Poland  had  died. 
Then  he  told  the  old  negress  to  return  and  remain  with 
her  mistress,  and  that  he  would  watch  over  the  body  till 
morning. 

That  quiet  watch  by  the  pure  little  child,  with  a  trace 
of  heaven's  own  beauty  on  her  face,  was  to  Haldane 
like  the  watch  of  the  shepherds  on  the  hillside  near 
Bethlehem.  At  times,  in  the  deep  hush  that  followed 
the  storm,  he  was  almost  sure  that  he  heard,  faint  and 
far  away,  angelic  minstrelsy  and  song. 

Haldane' s  unusually  healthful  and  vigorous  constitution 
had  thus  far  resisted  the  infection,  but  after  returning 
from  the  sad  duty  of  laying  little  Bertha's  remains  by 
those  of  her  father,  he  felt  the  peculiar  languor  which  is 
so  often  the  precursor  of  the  chill  and  subsequent  fever. 
Although  he  had  scarcely  hoped  to  escape  an  attack,  he 
had  never  before  reahzed  how^  disastrous  it  would  be  to 
the  very  ones  he  had  come  to  serve.  Who  was  there  to 
take  care  of  him  ?  Mrs.  Poland  was  almost  helpless  from 
nervous  prostration.  Amy  required  absolute  quiet  to 
prevent  the  more  fatal  relapse,  which  is  almost  certain  to 
follow  exertion  made  too  early  in  convalescence.  He 
knew  that  if  he  were  in  the  house  she  would  make  the 
attempt  to  do  something  for  him,  and  he  also  knew  it 
would  be   at  the   risk  of  her  life.     Old  Aunt  Saba  was 


438   KNIGIir  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

worn  out  in  her  attendance  on  Bertha,  Amy,  and  Mrs. 
Poland.  Her  husband,  and  a  stranger  who  had  been  at 
last  secured  to  assist  him,  were  required  in  the  household 
duties. 

He  took  his  decision  promptly,  for  he  felt  that  he  had 
but  brief  time  in  which  to  act.  Going  to  Mrs.  Poland's 
room,  he  said  to  her  and  Amy, 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  both  so  brave  and  doing  as 
well  as  you  are  on  this  sad,  sad  day.  I  do  not  think  you 
will  take  the  disease,  Mrs.  Poland  ;  and  you,  Miss  Amy^ 
only  need  perfect  quiet  in  order  to  get  well.  Please  re- 
member, as  a  great  favor  to  me,  how  vitally  important  is 
the  tranquillity  of  mind  and  body  that  I  am  ever  p.each- 
ing  to  you,  and  don't  do  that  which  fatigues  you  in  the 
slightest  degree,  till  conscious  of  your  old  strength.  And 
now  I  am  going  away  for  a  little  while.  This  is  a  time 
when  every  man  should  be  at  his  post  of  duty.  I  am 
needed  elsewhere,  for  I  know  of  a  case  that  requires  im- 
mediate attention.  Please  do  not  remonstrate,"  he  said, 
as  they  began  to  urge  that  he  should  take  some  rest  ; 
"my  mission  here  has  ended  for  the  present  and  my 
duty  is  elsewhere.  We  won't  say  good-by,  for  I  shall 
not  be  far  away  ;"  and  although  he  was  almost  faint 
from  weakness,  his  bearing  was  so  decided  and  strongs 
and  he  appeared  so  bent  on  departure,  that  they  felt 
that  it  would  hardly  be  in  good  taste  to  say  anything 
more. 

"We  are  almost  beginning  to  feel  that  Mr.  Haldane 
belongs  to  us,"  said  Amy  to  her  mother  afterward,  "  and 
forget  that  he  may  be  prompted  by  as  strong  a  sense  of 
duty  to  others." 

As  Haldane  was  leaving  the  house  Dr.  Orton  drove  to 
the  door.  Before  he  could  alight  the  young  man  climbed 
into  his  buggy  with  almost  desperate  haste. 

"Drive  toward  the  city,"  he  said  so  decisively  that 
the  doctor  obeyed. 


A   31  AX   VERSUS  A    CONNOISSEUE.  43i^ 

"What's  the  matter,  Haldane  ?  Speak,  man;  you 
look  sick." 

"  Take  me  to  the  city  hospital.     I  am  sick." 

"  T  shall  take  you  right  back  to  Mrs.  Poland's,"  said 
the  doctor,  pulling  up. 

Haldane  laid  his  hands  on  the  reins,  and  then  ex- 
plained his  fears  and  the  motive  for  his  action. 

"  God  bless  you,  old  fellow  ;  but  you  are  right.  Any 
effort  now  would  cost  Amy  her  life,  and  she  would  make 
it  if  you  were  there.  But  you  are  not  going  to  the  hos- 
pital." 

Dr.  Orton's  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  city  en- 
abled him  to  place  Haldane  in  a  comfortable  room  near 
his  own  house,  where  he  could  give  constant  supervision 
to  his  case.  He  also  procured  a  good  nurse,  whose  sole 
duty  was  to  take  care  of  the  young  man.  To  the  anx- 
ious questioning  of  Mrs.  Poland  and  Amy  from  time  to 
time,  the  doctor  maintained  the  fiction,  saying  that  Hal- 
dane was  watching  a  very  important  case  under  his 
care  ;  "  and  you  know  his  way,"  added  the  old  gentle- 
man, rubbing  his  hands,  as  if  he  were  enjoying  some- 
thing internally,  "  he  won't  leave  a  case  till  I  say  it's 
safe,  even  to  visit  you,  of  whom  he  speaks  every  chance 
he  gets  ;"  and  thus  the  two  ladies  in  their  feeble  state 
were  saved  all  anxiety. 

They  at  length  learned  of  the  merciful  ruse  that  had 
been  played  upon  them  by  the  appearance  of  their  friend 
at  their  door  in  Dr.  Orton's  buggy.  As  the  old  physi- 
cian helped  his  patient,  w^ho  was  still  rather  weak,  up  the 
steps,  he  said  with  his  hearty  laugh  : 

"  Haldane  has  watched  over  that  case,  that  he  and  I 
told  you  of,  long  enough.  We  now  turn  the  case  over 
to  you.  Miss  Amy.  But  all  he  requires  is  good  living, 
and  I'll  trust  to  you  for  that.  He's  a  trump,  if  he  is  a 
Yankee.  But  drat  him,  I  thought  he'd  spoil  the  joke  by 
dying,  at  one  time." 


440   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

The  sentiments  that  people  Hke  Mrs.  Poland  and  her 
daughter,  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  Laura,  would  naturally  enter- 
tain toward  one  who  had  served  them  as  Haldane  had 
•done,  and  at  such  risk  to  himself,  can  be  better  imagined 
than  portrayed.  They  looked  and  felt  infinitely  more 
than  they  were  ever  permitted  to  say,  for  any  expression 
of  obligation  was  evidently  painful  to  him. 

He  speedily  gained  his  old  vigor,  and  before  the  au- 
tumn frosts  put  an  end  to  the  epidemic,  was  able  to  ren- 
der Dr.  Orton  much  valuable  assistance. 

Amy  became  more  truly  his  sister  than  ever  his  own 
had  been  to  him.  Her  quick  intuition  soon  discovered 
his  secret — even  the  changing  expression  of  his  eyes  at 
the  mention  of  Laura's  name  would  have  revealed  it  to 
her — but  he  would  not  let  her  speak  on  the  subject. 
""She  belongs  to  another,"  he  said,  "and  although  to 
me  she  is  the  most  beautiful  and  attractive  woman  in  the 
world,  it  must  be  my  life-long  effort  not  to  think  of  her." 

His  parting  from  Mrs.  Poland  and  Amy  tested  his  self- 
control  severely.  In  accordance  with  her  impulsive  na- 
ture, Amy  put  her  arms  about  his  neck  as  she  said 
brokenly  : 

"You  were  indeed  God's  messenger  to  us,  and  you 
brought  us  life.     As  father  said,  we  shall  all  meet  again." 

On  his  return,  Mrs.  Arnot's  greeting  was  that  of  a 
•mother;  but  there  were  traces  of  constraint  in  Laura's 
manner.  When  she  first  met  him  she  took  his  hand  in  a 
strong,  warm  pressure,  and  said,  with  tears  in  her  eyes  : 

"  Mr.  Haldane,  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness  to  Amy 
and  auntie  as  sincerely  as  if  it  had  all  been  rendered  to 
me  alone." 

But  after  this  first  expression  of  natural  feeling,  Hal- 
dane was  almost  tempted  to  believe  that  she  shunned 
meeting  his  eyes,  avoided  speaking  to  him,  and  even 
tried  to  escape  from  his  society,  by  taking  Mr.  Beau- 
jmont's  arm  and  strolhng  off  to  some  other  apartment, 


A   MAN   VERSUS  A    CONNOISSEUR.  441 

when  he  was  calHng  on  Mrs.  Arnot.  And  yet  if  this 
were  true,  he  was  also  made  to  feel  that  it  resulted  from 
no  lack  of  friendliness  or  esteem  on  her  part. 

"  She  fears  that  my  old-time  passion  may  revive,  and 
she  would  teach  me  to  put  a  watch  at  the  entrance  of  its 
sepulchre,"  he  at  length  concluded;  "she  little  thinks 
that  my  love,  so  far  from  being  dead,  is  a  chained  giant 
that  costs  me  hourly  vigilance  to  hold  in  life-long  im- 
prisonment." 

But  Laura  understood  him  much  better  than  he  did  her. 
Her  manner  was  the  result  of  a  straightforward  effort 
to  be  honest.  Of  her  own  free  will,  and  without  even 
the  slightest  effort  on  the  part  of  her  uncle  and  aunt  to 
incline  her  toward  the  wealthy  and  distinguished  Mr. 
Beaumont,  she  had  accepted  all  his  attentions,  and  had 
accepted  the  man  himself.  In  the  world's  estimation  she 
would  not  have  the  slightest  ground  to  find  fault  with 
him,  for,  from  the  first,  both  in  conduct  and  manner,  he 
had  been  irreproachable. 

When  the  telegram  which  announced  Mr.  Poland's 
death  was  received,  he  tried  to  comfort  her  by  words- 
that  were  so  peculiarly  elegant  and  somber,  that,  in  spite 
of  Laura's  wishes  to  think  otherwise,  they  struck  her  like 
an  elegiac  address  that  had  been  carefully  prearranged 
and  studied  ;  and  when  the  tidings  of  poor  little  Bertha's 
death  came,  it  would  occur  to  Laura  that  Mr.  Beaumont 
had  thought  his  first  little  address  so  perfect  that  he  could 
do  no  better  than  to  repeat  it,  as  one  might  use  an  appro- 
priate burial  service  on  all  occasions.  He  meant  to  be 
kind  and  considerate.  He  was  "ready  to  do  anything 
in  his  power,"  as  he  often  said.  But  what  was  in  his 
power  ?  As  telegrams  and  letters  came,  telling  of  death,, 
of  desperate  illness,  and  uncertain  life,  of  death  again, 
of  manly  help,  of  woman-like  self-sacrifice  in  the  same 
man,  her  heart  began  to  beat  in  quick,  short,  passionate 
throbs.     But  it  would  seem  that  nothing  could  ever  dis- 


442    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

turb  the  even  rhythm  of  Beaumont's  pulse.  He  tried  to 
show  his  sympathy  by  turning  his  mind  to  all  that  was 
mournful  and  somber  in  art  and  literature.  One  day  he 
brought  to  her  from  New  York  what  he  declared  to  be 
the  finest  arrangement  of  dirge  music  for  the  piano  ex- 
tant, and  she  quite  surprised  him  by  declaring  with  sud- 
den passion  that  she  could  not  and  would  not  play  a 
note  of  it. 

In  her  deep  sorrow  and  deeper  anxiety,  in  her  strange 
and  miserable  unrest,  which  had  its  hidden  root  in  a 
cause  not  yet  understood,  she  turned  to  him  again  and 
again  for  sympathy,  and  he  gave  her  abundant  oppor- 
tunity to  seek  it,  for  Laura  was  the  most  beautiful  object 
he  had  ever  seen  ;  and  therefore,  to  feast  his  eye  and 
gratify  his  ear,  he  spent  much  of  his  time  with  her  ;  so 
much,  indeed,  that  she  often  grew  drearily  weary  of  him. 
But  no  matter  when  or  how  often  she  would  look  into 
his  face  for  quick,  heartfelt  appreciation,  she  saw  with 
instinctive  certainty  that,  more  than  lover,  more  than 
friend,  and  eventually,  more  than  husband,  he  was,  and 
€ver  would  be,  a  connoisseur.  When  she  smiled  he 
was  admiring  her,  when  she  wept  he  was  also  admiring 
her.  Whatever  she  did  or  said  was  constantly  being 
looked  at  and  studied  from  an  esthetic  stand-point  by 
this  man,  whose  fastidious  taste  she  had  thus  far  satis- 
fied. More  than  once  she  had  found  herself  asking, 
•*•  Suppose  I  should  lose  my  beauty,  what  would  he  do?" 
and  the  instinctive  answer  of  her  heart  was  :  "  He  would 
honorably  try  to  keep  all  his  pledges,  but  would  look  the 
other  way." 

Before  she  was  aware  of  it,  she  had  begun  to  compare 
her  affianced  with  Haldane,  and  she  found  that  the  one 
was  like  a  goblet  of  sweet,  rich  wine,  that  was  already 
nearly  exhausted  and  cloying  to  her  taste  ;  the  other  was 
like  a  mountain  spring,  whose  waters  are  pure,  ever  new, 
iinfaihng,  prodigally  abundant,  inspiring  yet  slaking  thirst. 


A   3IAN  VERSUS  A    CONNOISSEUR.  443 

But  she  soon  saw  whither  such  comparisons  were  lead' 
ing  her,  and  recognized  her  danger  and  her  duty.  She 
had  phghted  her  faith  to  another,  and  he  had  given  her 
no  good  reason  to  break  that  faith.  Laura  had  a  con- 
science, and  she  as  resolutely  set  to  work  to  shut  out 
Haldane  from  her  heart,  as  he,  poor  man  had  tried  to- 
exclude  her  image,  and  from  very  much  the  same  cause. 
But  the  heart  is  a  wayward  organ  and  is  often  at  sword' s- 
point  with  both  will  and  conscience,  and  frequently,  in 
spite  of  all  that  she  could  do,  it  would  array  Haldane  on 
the  one  side  and  Beaumont  on  the  other,  and  so  it  would 
eventually  come  to  be,  the  man  who  loved  her,  versus 
the  connoisseur  who  admired  her,  but  whose  absorbing 
passion  for  himself  left  no  place  for  any  other  strong 
affection. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

EXIT  OF    LAURA'S    FIRST   KNIGHT. 

Haldane  was  given  but  little  time  for  quiet  study,  for, 
before  the  year  closed,  tidings  came  from  his  mother, 
who  was  then  in  Italy,  that  she  was  ill  and  wished  to  see 
him.  Poor  Mrs.  Haldane  had  at  last  begun  to  under- 
stand her  son's  character  better,  and  to  realize  that  he 
would  retrieve  the  past.  She  also  reproached  herself 
that  she  had  not  been  more  sympathetic  and  helpful  to 
him,  and  w^as  not  a  little  jealous  that  he  should  have 
found  better  and  more  appreciative  friends  than  herself. 
And,  at  last,  when  she  was  taken  ill,  she  longed  to  see 
him,  and  he  lost  not  a  moment  in  reaching  her  side. 

Her  illness,  however,  did  not  prove  very  serious,  and 
she  improved  rapidly  after  a  young  gentleman  appeared 
who  was  so  refined  in  his  manners,  so  considerate  and 
deferential  in  his  bearing  toward  her  that  she  could 
scarcely  believe  that  he  was  the  same  with  the  wild, 
wretched  youth  who  had  been  in  jail,  and,  what  was  al- 
most as  bad,  who  had  worked  in  a  mill. 

Haldane  made  the  most  of  his  opportunities  in  seeing 
•what  was  beautiful  in  nature  and  art  while  in  the  old 
world,  but  his  thoughts  turned  with  increasing  frequency 
to  his  own  land — not  only  because  it  contained  the  friends 
he  loved  so  well,  but  also  because  events  were  now  rap- 
idly culminating  for  that  great  struggle  between  the  two 
jarring  sections  that  will  eventually  form  a  better  and 
closer  union  on  the  basis  of  a  mutual  respect,  and  a  bet- 
ter and  truer  knowledge  of  each  other. 

When  Mrs.  Haldane  saw  that  her  son  was  determined 
to  take  part  in  the  conflict,  he  began  to  seem  to  her  more 
hke  his  old  unreasonable  self.  She  feebly  remonstrated 
as  a  matter  of  course,  and  proved  to  her  own  satisfaction 
that  it  was  utter  folly  for  a  young  man  who  had  the  en- 
444 


EXIT  OF  LA  UFA'S  FIRST  KNIGHT.  44S 

joyment  of  such  large  wealth  as  her  son  to  risk  the  loss 
of  every  thing  in  the  hardships  and  dangers  of  war.  He 
was  as  kind  and  considerate  as  possible,  but  she  saw 
from  the  old  and  well-remembered  expression  of  his  eyes 
that  he  would  carry  out  his  own  will  nevertheless,  and 
therefore  she  and  his  sisters  reluctantly  returned  with  him. 

Having  safely  installed  them  in  their  old  home,  and 
proved  by  the  aid  of  Dr.  Marks  and  some  other  leading 
citizens  of  his  native  city  that  they  had  no  further  oc- 
casion to  seclude  themselves  from  the  world,  he  returned 
to  Hillaton  to  aid  in  organizing  a  regiment  that  was  being 
recruited  there,  and  in  which  Mr.  Ivison  had  assured  him 
of  a  commission.  By  means  of  the  acquaintances  he 
had  rnade  through  his  old  mission  class,  he  was  able  to- 
secure  enhstments  rapidly,  and  although  much  of  the 
material  that  he  brought  in  was  unpromising  in  its  first 
appearance,  he  seemed  to  have  the  faculty  of  transform- 
ing the  slouching  dilapidated  fellows  into  soldiers,  and  it 
passed  into  general  remark  that  "  Haldane's  company 
was  the  roughest  to  start  with,  and  the  best  disciplined  and 
most  soldierly  of  them  all  when  ordered  to  the  seat  of  war.'" 

The  colonelcy  of  the  regiment  was  given  to  Mr.  Beau- 
mont, not  only  on  account  of  his  position,  but  also  be- 
cause of  his  large  hberality  in  fitting  it  out.  He  took  a 
vast  interest  in  the  esthetic  features  of  its  equipment, 
style  of  uniform,  and  hke  matters,  and  he  did  most  ex- 
cellent service  in  insisting  on  neatness,  good  care  of 
weapons,  and  a  soldier-like  bearing  from  the  first. 

While  active  in  this  work  he  rose  again  in  Laura's 
esteem,  for  he  seemed  more  manly  and  energetic  than  he 
had  shown  himself  to  be  before  ;  and  what  was  still  more 
in  his  favor,  he  had  less  time  for  the  indulgence  of  his 
taste  as  a  connoisseur  with  her  fair  but  often  weary  face 
as  the  object  of  contemplation. 

She,  with  many  others,  visited  the  drill-ground  almost 
daily,  and  when  she  saw  the  tall  and  graceful  form  of 


446   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

Mr.  Beaumont  issuing  from  the  colonel's  tent,  when  she 
saw  him  mount  his  superb  white  horse,  which  he  man- 
aged with  perfect  skill,  when  she  saw  the  sun  glinting  on 
his  elegant  sword  and  gold  epaulettes,  and  heard  his 
sonorous  orders  to  the  men,  she  almost  felt  that  all  Hilla- 
ton  was  right,  and  that  she  had  reason  to  be  proud  of 
him,  and  to  be  as  happy  as  the  envious  belles  of  the  city 
deemed  her  to  be.  But  in  spite  of  herself,  her  eyes 
would  wander  from  the  central  figure  to  plain  Captain 
Haldane,  who,  ignoring  the  admiring  throng,  was  giving 
his  whole  attention  to  his  duty. 

Before  she  was  aware,  the  thought  began  to  creep  into 
her  mind,  however,  that  to  one  man  these  scenes  were 
military  pageants,  and  to  the  other  they  meant  stern  and 
uncompromising  war. 

This  impression  had  speedy  confirmation,  for  one  even- 
ing when  both  Mr.  Beaumont  and  Haldane  happened  to 
be  present,  Mrs.  Arnot  remarked  in  effect  that  her  heart 
misgave  her  when  she  looked  into  the  future,  and  that 
the  prospect  of  a  bloody  war  between  people  of  one  race 
and  faith  was  simply  horrible. 

"It  will  not  be  very  bloody,"  remarked  Mr.  Beau- 
mont, lightly.  "  After  things  have  gone  about  so  far  the 
politicians  on  both  sides  will  step  in  and  patch  up  a  com- 
promise. Our  policy  at  the  North  is  to  make  an  impos- 
ing demonstration.  This  will  have  the  effect  of  bringing 
the  fire-eaters  to  their  senses,  and  if  this  won't  answer 
we  must  get  enough  men  together  to  walk  right  over  the 
South,  and  end  the  nonsense  at  once.  I  have  traveled 
through  the  South,  and  know  that  it  can  be  done." 

"  Pardon  me,  Colonel,"  said  Haldane,  "but  since  we 
are  not  on  the  drill-ground  I  have  a  right  to  differ  with 
you.  I  anticipate  a  very  bloody,  and,  perhaps,  a  long 
war.  I  have  not  seen  so  much  of  the  South,  but  I  have 
seen  something  of  its  people.  The  greatest  heroism  I 
«ver  saw  manifested  in  my  life  was  by  a  young  Southern 


EXIT  OF  LAURA'S  FIRST  KNIGHT.  447 

girl,  and  if  such  are  their  women  we  shall  find  the  men 
foemen  abundantly  worthy  of  our  steel.  We  shall  in- 
deed have  to  literally  walk  over  them,  that  is,  such  of  us 
as  are  left  and  able  to  walk.  I  agree  with  Mrs.  Arnot, 
and  I  tremble  for  the  future  of  my  country." 

Mr.  Beaumont  forgot  himself  for  once  so  far  as  to  say, 
"  Oh,  if  you  find  such  cause  for  trembling — "  but  Laura's 
indignant  face  checked  further  utterance. 

"  I  propose  to  do  my  duty,"  said  Haldane,  with  a  quiet 
smile,  though  a  quick  flush  showed  that  he  felt  the  slur, 
"  and  it  will  be  your  duty.  Colonel,  to  see  that  I  do." 

"  You  have  taught  us  that  the  word  duty  means  a  great 
deal  to  you,  Egbert,"  said  Mrs.  Arnot,  and  then  the  mat- 
ter dropped.  But  the  animus  of  each  man  had  been 
quite  clearly  revealed,  and  the  question  would  rise  in 
Laura's  mind,  "Does  not  the  one  belittle  the  occasion 
because  little  himself?  "  Although  she  dreaded  the  com- 
ing war  inexpressibly,  she  took  Haldane' s  view  of  it.  His 
tribute  to  her  Cousin  Amy  also  touched  a  very  tender  chord. 

On  the  ground  of  having  secured  so  many  recruits 
Mr.  Ivison  urged  that  Haldane  should  have  the  rank  of 
major,  but  at  that  time  those  things  were  controlled  largely 
by  political  influence  and  favoritism,  and  there  were  still 
not  a  few  in  Hillaton  who  both  thought  and  spoke  of  the 
young  man's  past  record  as  a  good  reason  why  he  should 
not  have  any  rank  at  all.  He  quietly  took  what  was 
given  him  and  asked  for  nothing  more. 

All  now  know  that  Mr.  Beaumont's  view  was  not  cor- 
rect, and  as  the  conflict  thickened  and  deepened  that  ele- 
gant gentleman  became  more  and  more  disgusted.  Not 
that  he  lacked  personal  courage,  but.  as  he  often  re- 
marked, it  was  the  "  horrid  style  of  living  "  that  he  could 
not  endure.  He  could  not  find  an  esthetic  element  in 
the  blinding  dust  or  unfathomable  mud  of  Virginia. 

As  was  usually  the  case,  there  was  in  the  regiment  a 
soldier  gifted  with  the  power  and  taste  for  letter-writing. 


448   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

and  he  kept  the  local  papers  quite  well  posted  concern- 
ing affairs  in  the  regiment.  One  item  concerning  Beau- 
mont will  indicate  the  condition  of  his  mind.  After  de- 
scribing the  "awful  "  nature  of  the  roads  and  weather, 
the  writer  added,  "  The  Colonel  looks  as  if  in  a  chronic 
state  of  disgust." 

Suddenly  the  regiment  was  ordered  to  the  far  South- 
west. This  was  more  than  Beaumont  could  endure,  for 
in  his  view  life  in  that  region  would  be  a  burden  under 
any  circumstances.  He  coolly  thought  the  matter  over, 
and  concluded  that  he  would  rather  go  home,  marry 
Laura,  and  take  a  tour  in  Europe,  and  promptly  executed 
the  first  part  of  his  plan  by  resigning  on  account  of  ill- 
health.  He  had  a  bad  cold,  it  is  true,  which  had  chiefly 
gone  to  his  head  and  made  him  very  uncomfortable,  and 
so  inflamed  his  nose  that  the  examining  physician  mis- 
judged the  exemplary  gentleman,  recommending  that  his 
resignation  be  accepted,  more  from  the  fear  that  his  hab- 
its were  bad  than  from  any  other  cause.  But  by  the 
time  he  reached  Hillaton  his  nose  was  itself  again,  and 
he  as  elegant  as  ever.  The  political  major  had  long  since 
disappeared,  and  so  Haldane  started  for  his  distant  field 
of  duty  as  lieutenant-colonel. 

The  regimental  letter-writer  chronicled  this  promotion 
in  the  Hillaton  Courier  with  evident  satisfaction. 

"  Lieut.-Col.  Haldane,"  he  wrote,  "  is  respected  by  all  and 
liked  by  the  majority.  He  keeps  us  rigidly  to  our  duty,  but  is 
kind  and  considerate  nevertheless.  He  is  the  most  useful  ofificer 
I  ever  heard  of.  Now  he  is  chaplain  and  again  he  is  surgeon. 
He  coaxes  the  money  away  from  the  men  and  sends  it  home  to 
their  families,  otherwise  much  of  it  would  be  lost  in  gambling. 
Many  a  mother  and  wife  in  Hillaton  hears  from  the  absent 
oftener  because  the  Colonel  urges  the  boys  to  write,  and  writes 
for  those  who  are  unable.  To  give  you  a  sample  of  the  man  I 
will  tell  you  what  I  saw  not  long  ago.  The  roads  were  horrible 
as  usual,  and  some  of  the  men  were  getting  played  out  on  the 
inarch.  The  first  thing  I  knew  a  sick  man  was  on  the  Major's 
horse  (he  was  Major  then),  and  he  was  trudging  along  in  the 


EXIT  OF  LAURA'S  FIRST  KNIGHT.  449 

mud  with  the  rest  of  us,  and  carrying  the  muskets  of  three  other 
men  who  were  badly  used  up.i  We  want  the  people  of  Hilla- 
ton  to  understand,  that  if  any  of  us  get  back  we  won't  hear 
anything  more  against  Haldane.  Nice,  pretty  fellows,  who 
don't  like  to  get  their  boots  muddy,  as  our  ex-Colonel  for  in- 
stance, may  be  more  to  their  taste,  but  they  ain't  to  ours." 

Laura  read  this  letter  with  cheeks  that  reddened  with 
shame  and  then  grew  very  pale. 

"  Auntie,"  she  said,  showing  it  to  Mrs.  Arnot,  "  I  can- 
not marry  that  man.     I  would  rather  die  first." 

"  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  feel  so,"  replied  Mrs.  Arnot 
emphatically.  "  With  all  his  wealth  and  culture  I  neither 
would  nor  could  marry  him,  and  would  tell  him  so.  I 
have  felt  sure  that  you  would  come  to  this  conclusion, 
but  I  wished  your  own  heart  and  conscience  to  decide  the 
matter." 

But  before  Laura  could  say  to  Mr,  Beaumont  that  which 
she  felt  she  must,  and  yet  which  she  dreaded,  for  his  sake, 
to  speak,  a  social  earthquake  took  place  in  Hillaton. 

Mr.  Arnot  was  arrested  !  But  for  the  promptness  of 
his  friends  to  give  bail  for  his  appearance,  he  would  have 
been  taken  from  his  private  office  to  prison  as  poor  Hal- 
dane had  been  years  before. 

It  would  be  wearisome  to  tell  the  long  story  of  his 
financial  distress,  which  he  characteristically  kept  con- 
cealed from  his  wife.  Experiences  like  his  are  only  too 
common.  With  his  passion  for  business  he  had  extended 
it  to  the  utmost  Hmit  of  his  capital.  Then  came  a  time 
of  great  depression  and  contraction.  Prompted  by  a 
will  that  had  never  been  thwarted,  and  a  passion  for 
routine  which  could  endure  no  change,  he  made  Hercu- 

^  I  cannot  refrain  here  from  paying  a  tribute  to  my  old  school- 
mate and  friend,  Major  James  Cromwell,  of  the  124th  New 
York  Volunteers  whom  I  have  seen  plodding  along  in  the  mud 
in  a  November  storm,  a  sick  soldier  riding  lus  horse,  while  he 
carried  the  accoutrements  of  other  men  who  were  giving  out 
from  exhaustion.  Major  Cromwell  was  killed  while  leading  a 
charge  at  the  battle  of  Gettysburg. 


450   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

lean  effort  to  keep  every  thing  moving  on  with  mechan- 
ical regularity.  His  strong  business  foresight  detected 
the  coming  change  for  the  better  in  the  business  world, 
and  with  him  it  was  only  a  question  of  bridging  over  the 
intervening  gulf.  He  sank  his  own  property  in  his  effort 
to  do  this  ;  then  the  property  of  his  wife  and  Laura,  which 
he  held  in  trust.  Then  came  the  great  temptation  of  his 
life.  He  was  joint  trustee  of  another  very  large  prop- 
erty, and  the  co-executor  was  in  Europe,  and  would  be 
absent  for  years.  In  order  to  use  some  of  the  funds  of 
this  property  it  was  necessary  to  have  the  signature  of  this 
gentleman.  With  the  infatuation  of  those  who  dally 
with  this  kind  of  temptation,  Mr.  Arnot  felt  sure  that  he 
could  soon  make  good  all  that  he  should  use  in  his  pres- 
ent emergency,  and  therefore,  forged  the  name  of  the 
co-trustee.  The  gentleman  returned  from  Europe  unex- 
pectedly, and  the  crime  was  discovered  and  speedily 
proved. 

It  was  now  that  Mrs.  Arnot  proved  what  a  noble  and 
womanly  nature  she  possessed.  Without  palliating  his 
fault,  she  ignored  the  whole  scoffing,  chattering  world, 
and  stood  by  her  husband  with  as  wifely  devotion  as  if 
his  crime  had  been  misfortune,  and  he  himself  had  been 
the  affectionate  considerate  friend  that  she  had  believed  he 
would  be,  when  as  a  blushing  maiden  she  had  accepted 
the  hand  that  had  grown  so  hard,  and  cold,  and  heavy. 

Mr.  Beaumont  was  stunned  and  bewildered.  At  first 
he  scarcely  knew  what  to  do,  although  his  sagacious 
father  and  mother  told  him  very  plainly  to  break  the 
engagement  at  once.  But  the  trouble  with  Mr.  Beau- 
mont upon  this  occasion  was  that  he  was  a  man  of  honor, 
and  for  once  he  almost  regretted  the  fact.  But  since  he 
was,  he  believed  that  there  was  but  one  course  open  for 
him.  Although  Laura  was  now  penniless,  and  the  same 
almost  as  the  daughter  of  a  man  who  would  soon  be  in 
State  prison,  he  had  promised  to  marry  her.     She  must 


EXIT  OF  LAURA'S  FIBST  KXIGHT.  451 

become  the  mistress  of  the  ancient  and  aristocratic  Beau- 
mont mansion. 

He  braced  himself,  as  had  been  his  custom  when  a 
battle  was  in  prospect,  and  went  down  to  the  beautiful 
villa  which  would  be  Laura's  home  but  a  few  days  longer. 

As  he  entered,  she  saw  that  he  was  about  to  perform 
the  one  heroic  act  of  his  life,  but  she  was  cruel  enough 
to  prevent  even  that  one,  and  so  reduced  his  whole  ca- 
reer to  one  consistently  elegant  and  polished  surface. 

He  had  taken  her  hand,  and  was  about  to  address  her  in 
the  most  appropriate  language,  and  with  all  the  dignity  of 
self-sacrifice,  when  she  interrupted  him  by  saying  briefly  : 

"Mr.  Beaumont,  please  listen  to  me  first.  Before  the 
most  unexpected  event  occurred  which  has  made  so  great 
a  change  in  my  fortunes,  and  I  may  add,  in  so  many  of 
my  friends,  I  had  decided  to  say  to  you  in  all  sincerity 
and  kindness  that  I  could  not  marry  you.  I  could  not 
give  you  that  love  which  a  wife  ought  to  give  to  a  hus- 
band.   I  now  repeat  my  decision  still  more  emphatically." 

Mr.  Beaumont  was  again  stunned  and  bewildered.  A 
woman  declining  to  marry  him  ! 

"Can  nothing  change  your  decision?"  he  faltered^ 
fearing  that  something  might. 

"  Nothing,"  she  coldly  replied,  and  with  an  involuntary 
expressionof  contempt  hovering  around  herflexible  mouth. 

"  But  what  will  you  do?  "  he  asked,  prompted  by  not 
a  little  curiosity. 

"  Support  myself  by  honest  work,"  was  her  quiet  but 
very  decisive  answer. 

Mr.  Beaumont  now  felt  that  there  was  nothing  more  to 
be  done  but  to  make  a  httle  elegant  farewell  address,  and 
depart,  and  he  would  make  it  in  spite  of  all  that  she 
could  do. 

The  next  thing  she  heard  of  him  was  that  he  had  started 
on  a  tour  of  Europe,  and,  no  doubt,  in  his  old  character 
of  a  connoisseur,  whose  judgment  few  dared  to  dispute. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

ANOTHER   KNIGHT    APPEARS. 

The  processes  of  law  were  at  length  complete,  and 
Mr.  Arnot  found  himself  \n  a  prison  cell,  with  the  pros- 
pect that  years  must  elapse  before  he  would  receive  a  free- 
dom that  now  was  dreaded  almost  more  than  his  forced 
seclusion.  After  his  conviction  he  had  been  taken  from 
Hillaton  to  a  large  prison  of  the  State,  in  a  distant  city. 

"  I  shall  follow  you,  Thomas,  as  soon  as  I  can  com- 
plete such  arrangements  as  are  essential,"  Mrs.  Arnot 
had  said,  "and  will  remain  as  near  to  you  as  I  can. 
Indeed,  it  \vill  be  easier  for  Laura  and  me  to  commence 
our  new  life  there  than  here." 

The  man  had  at  last  begun  to  realize  the  whole  truth. 
True  to  his  nature,  he  thought  of  himself  first,  and  saw 
that  his  crime,  like  a  great  black  hand,  had  dragged  him 
down  from  his  proud  eminence  of  power  and  universal 
respect,  away  from  his  beloved  business,  and  had  shut 
him  up  in  this  narrow  stony  sepulchre,  for  what  better 
was  his  prison  cell  than  a  tomb  to  a  man  with  his  tireless 
mind  ?  The  same  mind  which  like  a  giant  had  carried 
its  huge  burden  every  day,  was  still  his;  but  now  there 
was  nothing  for  it  to  do.  And  yet  it  would  act,  for  con- 
stant mental  action  had  become  a  necessity  from  a  life- 
time of  habit.  Heretofore  his  vast  business  taxed  every 
faculty  to  the  utmost.  He  had  to  keep  his  eye  on  all  the 
great  markets  of  the  world  ;  he  had  to  follow  politicians, 
diplomats,  and  monarchs  into  their  secret  councils,  and 
guess  at  their  policy  in  order  to  shape  his  own  business 
policy.  His  interests  were  so  large  and  far  reaching  that 
it  had  been  necessary  for  him  to  take  a  glance  over  the 
world  before  he  could  properly  direct  his  affairs  from  his 
452 


ANOTHER   KNIGHT  APPEARS.  453 

private  office.  P'or  years  he  had  been  commanding  a 
small  army  of  men,  and  with  consummate  skill  and  con- 
stant thought  he  had  arrayed  the  industry  of  his  army 
against  the  labors  of  like  armies  under  the  leadership  of 
other  men  in  competition  with  himself.  His  mind  had 
learned  to  flash  with  increasing  speed  and  accuracy  to  one 
and  another  of  all  these  varied  interests.  But  now  the 
great  fabric  of  business  and  wealth,  which  he  had  built 
by  a  lifetime  of  labor,  had  vanished  hke  a  dream,  and 
nothing  remained  but  the  mind  that  had  constructed  it. 

"  Ah  !  "  he  groaned  again  and  again,  "  why  could  not 
mind  and  memory  perish  also?" 

But  they  remained,  and  were  the  only  possessions  left 
of  his  great  wealth. 

Then  he  began  to  think  of  his  wife  and  Laura.  He 
had  beggared  them,  and  what  was  far  worse,  he  had 
darkened  their  lives  with  the  shadow  of  his  own  dis- 
grace. Wholly  innocent  as  they  were,  they  must  suffer 
untold  wretchedness  through  his  act.  In  his  view  he  was 
the  cause  of  the  broken  engagement  between  his  niece 
and  the  wealthy  Mr.  Beaumont,  and  now  he  saw  that 
there  was  nothing  before  the  girl  but  a  dreary  effort 
to  gain  a  livelihood  by  her  own  labor,  and  this  effort 
rendered  almost  hopeless  by  the  reflected  shame  of  his 
crime. 

His  wife  also  was  growing  old  and  feeble.  At  last  he 
reahzed  he  had  a  wife  such  as  is  given  to  but  few  men — 
a  woman  who  was  great  enough  to  be  tender  and  sym- 
pathetic through  all  the  awful  weeks  that  had  elapsed 
since  the  discovery  of  his  crime — a  woman  who  could 
face  what  she  saw  before  her  and  utter  no  words  of  re- 
pining or  reproach. 

He  now  saw  how  cold  and  hard  and  unappreciative  he 
had  been  toward  her  in  the  days  of  his  prosperity,  and 
he  cursed  himself  and  his  unutterable  folly. 

Thus  his  great  powerful  mind  turned  in  vindictive  rage 


454    KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

against  itself.  Memory  began  to  show  him  with  mocking 
finger  and  bitter  gibes  where  he  might  have  acted  more 
wisely  in  his  business,  more  wisely  in  his  social  relations, 
and  especially  more  wisely  and  humanely,  to  say  the 
least,  in  his  own  home.  It  seemed  to  take  a  fiendish  de- 
light in  telling  him  how  every  thing  might  have  been  dif- 
ferent, and  how  he,  instead  of  brooding  in  a  prison  cell, 
might  have  been  the  most  honored,  useful,  wealthy,  and 
happy  man  in  Hillaton. 

Thus  he  was  tortured  until  physical  exhaustion  brought 
him  a  brief  respite  of  sleep.  But  the  next  day  it  was  the 
same  wretched  round  of  bitter  memories  and  vain  but 
torturing  activity  of  mind.  Day  after  day  passed  and  he 
grew  haggard  under  his  increasing  mental  distress.  His 
mind  was  like  a  great  driving  wheel,  upon  which  all  the 
tremendous  motive  power  is  turned  without  cessation, 
but  for  which  there  is  nothing  to  drive  save  the  man  him- 
self, and  seemingly  it  would  drive  him  mad. 

At  last  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  cannot  endure  this.  For 
my  own  sake,  for  the  sake  of  my  wife  and  Laura,  it  were 
better  that  an  utter  blank  should  take  the  place  of 
Thomas  Arnot.  I  am,  and  ever  shall  be,  only  a  burden 
to  them.  I  am  coming  to  be  an  intolerable  burden  to 
myself." 

The  thought  of  suicide,  once  entertained,  grew  rapidly 
in  favor,  and  at  last  it  be<^^»r»e  only  a  question  how  he 
could  carry  out  his  dark  purpose.  With  this  definite 
plan  before  him  he  grew  calmer.  At  last  he  had  some- 
thing to  ^0  in  the  future,  and  terrible  memory  must  sus- 
pend for  a  time  its  scorpion  lash  while  he  thought  how 
best  to  carry  out  his  plan. 

The  suicide  about  to  take  the  risk  of  endless  suffering 
is  usually  desirous  that  the  intervening  moments  of  his 
"  taking  off"  should  be  as  painless  as  possible,  and  Mr. 
Arnot  began  to  think  how  he  could  make  his  exit  momen- 
tary.    But  his  more  tranquil  mood,  the  result  of  having- 


ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS.  45J 

some  definite  action  before  him,  led  to  sleep,  and  the 
long  night  passed  in  unconsciousness,  the  weary  body 
clogging  the  wheels  of  conscious  thought. 

The  sun  was  shining  when  he  awoke  ;  but  with  return- 
ing consciousnesss  came  memory  and  pain,  and  the  old 
cowardly  desire  to  escape  all  the  consequences  of  his  sin 
by  death.  He  vowed  he  would  not  live  to  see  another 
day,  and  once  more  he  commenced  brooding  over  the 
one  question,  how  he  would  die.  As  he  took  up  this 
question  where  he  had  dropped  it  the  previous  night,  the 
thought  occurred  to  him  what  a  long  respite  he  had  had 
from  pain.  Then  like  a  flash  of  lightning  came  another 
thought : 

"  Suppose  by  my  self-destroying  act  I  pass  into  a  con- 
dition of  life  in  which  there  is  no  sleep,  and  memory  can 
torture  without  cessation,  without  respite  ?  True,  I  have 
tried  to  believe  there  is  no  future  hfe,  but  am  I  sure  of 
it?  Here  I  can  obtain  a  httle  rest.  For  hours  I  have 
been  unconscious,  through  the  weight  of  the  body  upon 
my  spirit.  How  can  I  be  sure  that  the  spirit  cannot  exist 
separately  and  suffer  just  the  same?  I  am  not  suffering 
now  through  my  body,  and  have  not  been  through  all 
these  terrible  days.  My  body  is  here  in  this  cell,  inert 
and  motionless,  painless,  while  in  my  mind  I  am  endur- 
ing the  torments  of  the  damned.  The  respite  from  suf- 
fering that  I  have  had  has  come  through  the  weariness 
of  my  body,  and  here  I  am  planning  to  cast  down  the 
one  barrier  that  perhaps  saves  me  from  an  eternity  of 
torturing  thought  and  memory." 

He  w^as  appalled  at  the  bare  possibility  of  such  a 
future  ;  reason  told  him  that  such  a  future  was  probable, 
and  conscience  told  him  that  it  was  before  him  in  verita- 
ble truth.  He  felt  that  wherever  he  carried  memory  and 
his  present  character  he  would  be  most  miserable, 
whether  it  were  in  Dante's  Inferno,  Milton's  Paradise,  or 
the  heaven  or  hell  of  the  Bible. 


456   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

There  was  no  more  thought  of  suicide.  Indeed,  he 
shrank  from  death  with  inexpressible  dread. 

Slowly  his  thoughts  turned  to  his  wife,  the  woman  who 
had  been  so  true  to  him,  the  one  human  being  of  all  the 
world  who  now  stood  by  him.  She  might  help  him  in 
his  desperate  strait.  She  seemed  to  have  a  principle 
within  her  soul  which  sustained  her,  and  which  might 
sustain  him.  At  any  rate,  he  longed  to  see  her  once 
more,  and  ask  her  forgiveness  in  deep  contrition  for  his 
base  and  life-long  failure  to  "love,  honor,  and  cherish 
her,"  as  he  had  promised  at  God's  altar  and  before  many 
witnesses. 

The  devoted  wife  came  and  patiently  entered  on  her 
ministry  of  love  and  Christian  faith,  and  out  of  the  chaos 
of  the  fallen  man  of  iron  and  stone  there  gradually 
emerged  a  new  man,  who  first  became  in  Christ's  ex- 
pressive words  "  a  little  child  "  in  spiritual  things,  that  he 
might  grow  naturally  and  in  the  symmetry  of  the  enduring 
manhood  which  God  designs  to  perfect  in  the  coming  ages. 

Mrs.  Arnot's  sturdy  integrity  led  her  to  give  up  every 
thing  to  her  husband's  creditors,  and  she  came  to  the 
city  of  her  new  abode  wherein  the  prison  was  located  al- 
most penniless.  But  she  brought  letters  from  Dr.  Bar- 
stow,  Mr.  Ivison,  and  other  Christian  people  of  Hillaton. 
These  were  presented  at  a  church  of  the  denomination  to 
which  she  belonged,  and  all  she  asked  was  some  em- 
ployment by  which  she  and  Laura  could  support  them- 
selves. These  letters  secured  confidence  at  once.  There 
was  no  mystery — nothing  concealed — and,  although  so 
shadowed  by  the  disgrace  of  another,  the  bearing  of  the 
ladies  inspired  respect  and  won  sympathy.  A  gentleman 
connected  with  the  church  gave  Laura  the  position  of 
saleswoman  in  his  bookstore,  and  to  Mrs.  Arnot's  little 
suburban  cottage  of  only  three  rooms  kind  and  interested 
ladies  brought  sewing  and  fancy-work.  Thus  they  were 
provided  for,  as  God's  people  ever  are  in  some  way. 


OTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS.  457 

Mrs.  Arnot  had  written  a  long  letter  to  Haldane  before 
leaving  Hillaton,  giving  a  full  account  of  their  troubles, 
with  one  exception.  At  Laura's  request  she  had  not 
mentioned  the  broken  engagement  with  Beaumont. 

"  If  possible,  I  wish  to  see  him  myself  before  he 
knows,"  she  had  said.  "At  least,  before  any  corre- 
spondence takes  place  between  us,  I  wish  to  look  into 
his  eyes,  and  if  I  see  the  faintest  trace  of  shrinking  from 
me  there,  as  I  saw  it  in  Mr.  Beaumont's  eyes,  I  will 
never  marry  him,  truly  as  I  love  him," 

Mrs.  Arnot' s  face  had  lighted  up  with  its  old-time  ex- 
pression, as  she  said  : 

"  Laura,  don't  you  know  Egbert  Haldane  better  than 
that?" 

"I  can't  help  it,"  she  had  replied  with  a  troubled 
brow  ;  "  the  manner  of  nearly  every  one  has  changed 
so  greatly  that  I  must  see  him  first." 

Haldane  did  not  receive  Mrs.  Arnot's  first  letter.  He 
was  at  sea  wath  his  regiment,  on  his  way  to  the  far  South- 
west, when  the  events  in  which  he  would  have  been  so 
deeply  interested  began  to  occur.  After  reaching  his 
new  scene  of  duty,  there  were  constant  alterations  of 
march  and  battle.  In  the  terrible  campaign  that  fol- 
lowed, the  men  of  the  army  he  was  acting  with  were 
decimated,  and  officers  dropped  out  fast.  In  conse- 
quence, Haldane,  who  received  but  two  slight  wounds, 
that  did  not  disable  him,  was  promoted  rapidly.  The 
colonel  of  the  regiment  was  killed  soon  after  their  arrival, 
and  from  the  command  of  the  regiment  he  rose,  before 
the  campaign  was  over,  to  command  a  brigade,  and  then 
a  division  ;  and  he  performed  his  duties  so  faithfully  and 
ably  that  he  was  confirmed  in  this  position. 

Mrs.  Arnot's  first  letter  had  followed  him  around  for  a 
time,  and  then  was  lost,  like  so  many  others  in  that  time 
of  dire  confusion.  Her  second  letter  after  long  delay 
reached  him,  but  it  was  very  brief  and  hurried,  and  re- 


458  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY, 

ferred  to  troubles  that  he  did  not  understand.  From 
members  of  his  old  regiment,  however,  rumors  reached 
him  of  some  disaster  to  Mr.  Arnot,  and  wrong-doing  on 
his  part,  which  had  led  to  imprisonment. 

Haldane  was  greatly  shocked  at  the  bare  possibility  of 
such  events,  and  wrote  a  most  sympathetic  letter  to  Mrs, 
Arnot,  which  never  reached  her.  She  had  received  some 
of  his  previous  letters,  but  not  this  one. 

By  the  time  the  campaign  was  over  one  of  Haldane's 
wounds  began  to  trouble  him  very  much,  and  his  health 
seemed  generally  broken  down  from  exposure  and  over- 
exertion. As  a  leave  of  absence  was  offered  him,  he 
availed  himself  of  it  and  took  passage  to  New  York. 

Three  or  four  letters  from  his  mother  had  reached  him, 
but  that  lady's  causeless  jealousy  of  Mrs.  Arnot  had 
grown  to  such  proportions  that  she  never  mentioned  her 
old  friend's  name. 

The  long  days  of  the  homeward  voyage  were  passed 
by  Haldane  in  vain  conjecture.  Of  one  thing  he  felt 
•quite  sure,  and  that  v^-as  that  Laura  was  by  this  time,  or 
soon  would  be,  Mrs.  Beaumont ;  and  now  that  the  ex- 
citement of  military  service  was  over,  the  thought  rested 
on  him  with  a  weight  that  was  almost  crushing. 

One  evening  Mr,  Growther  was  dozing  as  usual  be- 
tween his  cat  and  dog,  when  some  one  lifted  the  latch 
and  walked  in  without  the  ceremony  of  knocking. 

"  Look  here,  stranger,  where' s  yer  manners  ?  "  snarled 
the  old  gentleman.  Then  catching  a  glimpse  of  the  well- 
remembered  face,  though  now  obscured  by  a  tremendous 
beard,  he  started  up,  exclaiming, 

"Lord  a*  massy!  'tain't  you,  is  it?  And  you  com- 
pared yourself  with  that  little,  peaked-faced  chap  that's 
around  just  the  same — you  with  shoulders  as  broad  as 
them  are,  and  two  stars  on  'em  too  !  " 

The  old  man  nearly  went  beside  himself  with  joy.  He 
gave  the   cat   and    dog  each   a  vigorous  kick,  and  told 


ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS.  459 

them  to  ' '  wake  up  and  see  if  they  could  beheve  their 
eyes." 

It  was  some  time  before  Haldane  could  get  him 
quieted  down  so  as  to  answer  all  the  questions  that  he 
was  longing  to  put ;  but  at  last  he  drew  out  the  story  in 
full  of  Mr.  Arnot's  forgery  and  its  consequences. 

"  Has  Mr.  Beaumont  married  Miss  Romeyn  ?  "  at  last 
he  faltered. 

"  No  ;  I  reckon  not,"  said  Mr.  Growther  dryly. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "   asked  Haldane  sharply. 

"  Well,  all  I  know  is  that  he  didn't  marry  her,  and  she 
ain't  the  kind  of  a  girl  to  marry  him,  whether  he  would 
or  no,  and  so  they  ain't  married." 

"The  infernal  scoundrel!"  thundered  Haldaner 
springing  to  his  feet.     "  The  — " 

"Hold  on!"  cried  Mr.  Growther.  "Oh,  Lord  a' 
massy  !  I  half  beheve  he's  got  to  swearin'  down  in  the 
war.  If  he's  backslid  agin,  nothin'  but  my  little,  peaked- 
faced  chap  will  ever  bring  him  around  a  nuther  time." 

Haldane  was  stalking  up  and  down  the  room  in  strong 
excitement  and  quite  obhvious  of  Mr.  Growther' s  per- 
plexity. 

"The  unutterable  fool!"  he  exclaimed,  "to  part 
from  such  a  woman  as  Laura  Romeyn  for  any  cause  save 
death." 

"Well,  hang  it  all!  if  he's  a  fool  that's  his  business. 
What  on  'arth  is  the  matter  with  you?  I  ain't  used  to 
havin'  bomb-shells  go  off  right  under  my  nose  as  you  be, 
and  the  way  you  are  explodin'  round  kinder  takes  away 
my  breath." 

"  Forgive  me,  my  old  friend  ;  but  I  never  had  a  shot 
strike  quite  as  close  as  this.  Poor  girl !  poor  girl  !  What 
a  prospect  she  had  a  few  months  since.  True  enough, 
Beaumont  was  never  a  man  to  my  taste  ;  but  a  woman 
sees  no  faults  in  the  man  she  loves  ;  and  he  could  have 
given  her  every  thing  that  her  cultivated  taste  could  wish 


460  KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

for.  Poor  girl,  she  must  be  broken-hearted  with  all  this 
trouble  and  disappointment." 

"  If  I  was  you,  I'd  go  and  see  if  she  was,"  said  Mr. 
Growther,  with  a  shrewd  twinkle  in  his  eyes.  "I've 
heerd  tell  of  hearts  bein'  mended  in  my  day." 

Haldane  looked  at  him  a  moment,  and,  as  he  caught 
his  old  friend's  meaning,  he  brought  his  hand  down  on 
the  table  with  a  force  that  made  every  thing  in  the  old 
kitchen  ring  again. 

"  O  Lord  a'  massy  !  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Growther,  hopping 
half  out  of  his  chair. 

"  Mr.  Growther,"  said  Haldane,  starting  up,  "  I  came 
to  have  a  very  profound  respect  for  your  sagacity  and 
wisdom  years  ago,  but  to-night  you  have  surpassed 
Solomon  himself.  I  shall  take  your  most  excellent  advice 
at  once  and  go  and  see." 

"  Not  to-night — " 

"Yes,  I  can  yet  catch  the  owl  train  to-night.  Good- 
by  for  a  short  time." 

"  No  wonder  he  took  the  rebs'  works,  if  he  went  for  'em 
like  that,"  chuckled  Mr.  Growther,  as  he  composed  him- 
self after  the  excitement  of  the  unexpected  visit.  "  Now 
I  know  what  made  him  look  so  long  as  if  something  was 
a-gnawin'  at  his  heart  ;  so  I'm  a-thinkin'  there'll  be  two 
hearts  mended." 

Haldane  reached  the  city  in  which  Mrs.  Arnot  resided 
early  in  the  morning,  and  as  he  had  no  clue  to  her  resi- 
dence, he  felt  that  his  best  chance  of  hearing  of  her 
would  be  at  the  prison  itself,  for  he  knew  well  that  she 
would  seek  either  to  see  or  learn  of  her  husband's  wel- 
fare almost  daily.  In  answer  to  his  inquiries,  he  was  told 
that  she  would  be  sure  to  come  to  the  prison  at  such  an 
hour  in  the  evening,  since  that  was  her  custom. 

He  must  get  through  the  day  the  best  he  could,  and  so 
strolled  off  to  the  business  part  of  the  city,  where  was 
located  the  leading  hotel,  and  was  followed  by  curious 


ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS.  461 

eyes  and  surmises.  IMajor-generals  were  not  in  the  habit 
of  inquiring  at  the  prison  after  convicts'  wives. 

As  he  passed  a  bookstore,  it  occurred  to  him  that  an 
exciting  story  would  help  kill  time,  and  he  sauntered  iw 
and  commenced  looking  over  the  latest  publications  that 
were  seductively  arranged  near  the  door. 

"  I'll  go  to  breakfast  now,  Miss,"  said  the  junior  clerk 
who  swept  the  store. 

"Thank  you.  Oh,  go  quickly,"  murmured  Laura 
Romeyn  to  herself,  as  with  breathless  interest  she  watched 
the  unconscious  officer,  waiting  till  he  should  look  up  and 
recognize  her  standing  behind  a  counter.  She  was 
destined  to  have  her  wish  in  very  truth,  for  when  he  saw 
her  he  would  be  so  surely  off  his  guard  from  surprise  that 
she  could  see  into  the  very  depths  of  his  heart. 

Would  he  never  look  up?  She  put  her  hand  to  her 
side,  for  anticipation  was  so  intense  as  to  become  a  pain. 
She  almost  panted  from  excitement.  This  was  the  su- 
preme moment  of  her  life,  but  the  very  fact  of  his  coming 
to  this  city  promised  well  for  the  hope  which  fed  her  life. 

"  Ah,  he  is  reading.  The  thought  of  some  stranger 
holds  him,  while  my  intense  thoughts  and  feelings  no 
more  affect  him  than  if  I  were  a  thousand  miles  away. 
How  strong  and  manly  he  looks  !  How  well  that  uniform 
becomes  him,  though  evidently  worn  and  battle-stained  ! 
Ah  !  two  stars  upon  his  shoulder  !  Can  it  be  that  he  has 
won  such  high  rank?  What  will  he  think  of  poor  me, 
selling  books  for  bread  ?  Egbert  Haldane,  beware  !  If 
you  shrink  from  me  now,  even  in  the  expression  of  your 
eye,  I  stand  aloof  from  you  forever." 

The  man  thus  standing  on  the  brink  of  fate,  read 
leisurely  on,  smiling  at  some  quaint  fancy  of  the  author, 
who  had  gained  his  attention  for  a  moment. 

"  Heigh  ho  !  "  he  said  at  last,  "  this  stealing  diversion 
from  a  book  unbought  is  scarcely  honest,  so  I  will — " 

The  book  dropped  from  his  hands,  and  he  passed  his 


462   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

hands  across  his  eyes  as  if  to  brush  away  a  film.  Then 
his  face  hghted  up  with  all  the  noble  and  sympathetic 
feeling  that  Laura  had  ever  wished  or  hoped  to  see,  and 
he  sprang  impetuously  toward  her. 

"Miss  Romeyn,"  he  exclaimed.  "Oh,  this  is  better 
than  I  hoped." 

"  Did  you  hope  to  find  me  earning  my  bread  in  this 
humble  way  ?  "  she  faltered,  deliciously  conscious  that  he 
was  almost  crushing  her  hand  in  a  grasp  that  was  all  too 
friendly. 

"  I  was  hoping  to  ^nd  yotc — and  Mrs.  Arnot,"  he  added 
with  a  sudden  deepening  of  color.  "  I  thought  a  long 
•day  must  elapse  before  I  could  learn  of  your  residence." 

"  Do  you  know  all?  "  she  asked,  very  gravely. 

"Yes,  Miss  Romeyn,"  he  replied  with  moistening 
«yes,  "  I  know  all.  Perhaps  my  past  experience  enables 
me  to  sympathize  with  you  more  than  others  can.  But 
be  that  as  it  may,  I  do  give  you  the  whole  sympathy  of 
my  heart ;  and  for  this  brave  effort  to  win  your  own  bread 
I  respect  and  honor  you  more,  if  possible,  than  I  did  when 
you  were  in  your  beautiful  home  at  Hillaton." 

Laura's  tears  were  now  falling  fast,  but  she  was  smiling 
nevertheless,  and  she  said,  hesitatingly, 

"  I  do  not  consider  myself  such  a  deplorable  object 
of  sympathy  ;  I  have  good  health,  a  kind  employer, 
enough  to  live  upon,  and  a  tolerably  clear  conscience. 
Of  course  I  do  feel  deeply  for  auntie  and  uncle,  and  yet 
I  think  auntie  is  happier  than  she  has  been  for  many 
years.  If  all  had  remained  as  it  was  at  Hillaton,  the  ice 
around  uncle's  heart  would  have  grown  harder  and 
thicker  to  the  end  ;  now  it  is  melting  away,  and  auntie's 
thoughts  reach  so  far  beyond  time  and  earth,  that  she  is 
forgetting  the  painful  present  in  thoughts  of  the  future." 

"I  have  often  asked  myself,"  exclaimed  Haldane, 
"  could  God  have  made  a  nobler  woman  ?  Ah  !  Miss 
Laura,  you  do  not  know  how  much  I  owe  to  her." 


ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS.  463 

*'  You  have  taught  us  that  God  can  make  noble  men 
also." 

"  I  have  merely  done  my  duty,"  he  said,  with  a  care- 
less gesture.     "When  can  I  see  Mrs.  Arnot?" 

"I  can't  go  home  till  noon,  but  I  think  I  can  direct 
you  to  the  house." 

"  Can  I  not  stay  and  help  you  sell  books  ?  Then  I  can 
go  home  with  you." 

"A  major-general  behind  the  counter  selling  books 
would  make  a  sensation  in  town,  truly." 

"  If  the  people  were  of  my  way  of  thinking,  Miss  Laura 
Romeyn  selling  books  would  make  a  far  greater  sen- 
sation." 

"  Very  few  are  of  your  way  of  thinking,  Mr.  Haldane." 

"  I  am  heartily  glad  of  it,"  he  ejaculated. 

"  Indeed  !  " 

"  Pardon  me.  Miss  Romeyn,"  he  said  with  a  deep 
flush,  "  you  do  not  understand  what  I  mean."  Then  he 
burst  out  impetuously,  "  Miss  Laura,  I  cannot  school  my- 
self into  patience.  I  have  been  in  despair  so  many 
years  that  since  I  now  dare  to  imagine  that  there  is  a 
bare  chance  for  me,  I  cannot  wait  decorously  for  some 
fitting  occasion.  But  if  you  can  give  me  even  the  faint- 
est hope  I  will  be  patience  and  devotion  itself." 

"Hope  of  what?"  said  Laura,  faintly  turning  away 
her  face. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Laura,  I  asked  too  much,"  he  answered 
sadly. 

"You  have  not  asked  anything  very  definitely,  Mr. 
Haldane,"  she  faltered. 

"  I  ask  for  the  privilege  of  trying  to  win  you  as  my 
wife." 

"Ah,  Egbert,"  she  cried,  joyously,  "  you  have  stood 
the  test ;  for  if  you  had  shrunk,  even  in  your  thoughts, 
from  poor,  penniless  Laura  Romeyn,  with  her  uncle  in 
yonder  prison,  you  might  have  tried  in  vain  to  win  me." 


464   KNIGHT  OF  THE  NINETEENTH  CENTURY. 

"  God  knows  I  did  not  shrink,"  he  said  eagerly,  and 
reaching  out  his  hand  across  the  counter. 

"  I  know  it  too,"  she  said  shyly. 

"  Laura,  all  that  I  am,  or  ever  can  be,  goes  with  that 
hand." 

She  put  her  hand  in  his,  and  looking  into  his  face  with 
an  expression  which  he  had  never  seen  before,  she  said  : 

"Egbert,  I  have  loved  you  ever  since  you  went,  as  a 
true  knight,  to  the  aid  of  Cousin  Amy." 

And  thus  they  plighted  their  faith  to  each  other  across 
the  counter,  and  then  he  came  around  on  her  side. 

We  shall  not  attempt  to  portray  the  meeting  between 
Mrs.  Arnot  and  one  whom  she  had  learned  to  look  upon 
as  a  son,  and  who  loved  her  with  an  affection  that  had 
its  basis  in  the  deepest  gratitude. 

Our  story  is  substantially  ended.  It  only  remains  to 
be  said  that  Haldape,  by  every  means  in  his  power, 
showed  gentle  and  forbearing  consideration  for  his 
mother's  feelings,  and  thus  she  was  eventually  led  to  be 
reconciled  to  his  choice,  if  not  to  approve  of  it. 

•'After  all  it  is  just  like  Egbert,"  she  said  to  her 
daughters,  "  and  we  will  have  to  make  the  best  of  it." 

Haldane's  leave  of  absence  passed  all  too  quickly,  and 
in  parting  he  said  to  Laura : 

"You  think  I  have  faced  some  rather  difficult  duties 
before,  but  there  was  never  one  that  could  compare  with 
leaving  you  for  the  uncertainties  of  a  soldier's  hfe." 

But  he  went  nevertheless,  and  remained  till  the  end  of 
the  war. 

Not  long  after  going  to  the  front  he  was  taken  prisoner 
in  a  disastrous  battle,  but  he  found  means  of  informing 
his  old  friend  Dr.  Orton  of  the  fact.  Although  the  doc- 
tor was  a  rebel  to  the  back-bone,  he  swore  he  would 
"break  up  the  Confederacy"  if  Haldane  was  not  re- 
leased, and  through  his  influence  the  young  man  was 
soon  brought  to  his  friend's  hospitable  home,  where  he 


ANOTHER  KNIGHT  APPEARS.  465 

found  Amy  installed  as  housekeeper.  She  was  now 
Mrs.  Orton,  for  her  lover  returned  as  soon  as  it  was  safe 
for  him  to  do  so  after  the  end  of  the  epidemic.  He  was 
now  away  in  the  army,  and  thus  Haldane  did  not  meet 
him  at  that  time  ;  but  later  in  the  conflict  Colonel  Orton 
.n  turn  became  a  prisoner  of  war,  and  Haldane  wms  able 
to  return  the  kindness  which  he  received  on  this  occasion. 
Mrs.  Poland  resided  with  Amy,  and  they  both  were  most 
nappy  to  learn  that  they  would  eventually  have  a  rela- 
tive as  well  as  friend  in  their  captive,  for  never  was  a 
prisoner  of  war  made  more  of  than  Haldane  up  to  the 
time  of  his  exchange. 

Years  have  passed.  The  agony  of  the  war  has  long 
been  over.  Not  only  peace  but  prosperity  is  once  more 
prevailing  throughout  the  land. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arnot  reside  in  their  old  home,  but  Mrs. 
Egbert  Haldane  is  its  mistress.  Much  effort  was  made 
to  induce  Mr.  Growther  to  take  up  his  abode  there  also, 
but  he  would  not  leave  the  quaint  old  kitchen,  where  he 
said  "the  little  peaked-faced  chap  was  sittin'  beside  him 
all  the  time." 

At  last  he  failed  and  was  about  to  die.  Looking  up 
into  Mrs.  Arnot's  face,  he  said  : 

"  I  don't  think  a  bit  better  of  myself.  I'm  twisted  all 
out  o'  shape.  But  the  little  chap  has  taught  me  how  the 
Good  Father  will  receive  me." 

The  wealthiest  people  of  Hillaton  are  glad  to  obtain 
the  services  of  Dr.  Haldane,  and  to  pay  for  them  ;  they 
are  glad  to  welcome  him  to  their  homes  when  his  busy 
life  permits  him  to  come  ;  but  the  proudest  citizen  must 
wait  when  Christ,  in  the  person  of  the  poorest  and  low- 
liest, sends  word  to  this  knightly  man,  "  I  am  sick  or  in 
prison  ;  "  "I  am  naked  or  hungry." 

THE   END. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


B    000  003  160    9 


